The Secret Carrier
by et-tu-lj
Summary: In the first war, two Death Eaters betrayed their Lord. Regulus, whose betrayal was hidden. And Severus, who spied at his master's side for years to come. What secrets cause his change of heart? Severus/Regulus, with major roles for Sirius, James/Lily, Lucius, Rabastan, and Voldemort. 63k in 29 chapters. Posting now COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** The Secret Carrier

**Summary:** In the first war, two Death Eaters betrayed the Dark Lord. Regulus, whose betrayal went undiscovered until the end. And Severus, who spied at his master's right hand for years to come. What secrets caused his change of heart? And how much will Severus risk to protect those he loves?

**Characters/Pairings:** Severus/Regulus, Lily/James, Sirius, Voldemort, Dumbledore, Rabastan, Lucius

**Word Count:** 63,000 in 29 chapters.

**Status:** COMPLETE. 1-2 chapters will be posted weekly.

**Rating:** M, for language, non-explicit m/m sexual content, violence, adult themes. This story is canon-compliant which means character deaths galore.

**Beta Readers: **militantstemmed & msninacat (on livejournal), Iawen Londea

**Author Notes: **All story events are canon-compliant and within the range of established timelines. I placed Regulus one school year behind Severus, so some events are flexed further than typically seen in fandom, but are still within the range of canon facts.

And lastly, I'm American. I avoid slang as much as possible, but my diction and sentence construction remain American.

* * *

><p><strong>PROLOGUE<strong>

A hand came over his mouth and Severus came awake instantly. Dream merged with reality and the looming figure from his nightmare layered over the one bent over him. His heart raced and his throat clamped shut, but he had no air to cry out.

"It's me."

The dream slithered away, receding into the corners of the room. Severus blinked, and the doubled image resolved into a familiar form. A damp palm covered his mouth, the familiar roughness of hands chapped by the wind. Regulus saw his recognition and released him. One hand trailed down his face as he moved back, maintaining the connection.

"Regulus." He spoke the name with reverence, like the first spell he'd learned, as if it too held the power to change the world.

Too loud, and one of the sleepers shifted, disturbed. Severus jumped back, startled, and broke contact. Light touched the jut of Regulus' chin and strong profile, but didn't filter far enough to reveal his expression. When the saw of snoring resumed, Regulus leaned close.

"Come on," Regulus said, tugging his arm. "I want to talk to you."

Regulus looked back from the door, and his smile drew Severus to follow. He crept silently between the beds, careful not to rouse his housemates, and snuck out after Regulus.

"Wait," he called out, loud as he dared, but Regulus was already halfway down the corridor. Flickering torchlight cast the uneven stones into peaks and shadowed valleys, the doorways looming chasms on either side. But seven years had taught him a safe path, and light blazed from the other end, where Regulus waited.

Regulus had stoked the fire high. The common room blazed with light, and Regulus sprawled across the largest chair. He draped across it in a lazy dominance of possession that would have irked him in anyone else, but his easy grin made it not seem to matter. Severus folded himself into a smaller chair, one of harsh angles and harder wood.

"And what is it that can't wait for morning?"

Regulus smiled, beatific, and Severus scowled back.

"You're not happy to see me?"

Severus made an irritated sound in his throat, but his mind was coming to alertness. The familiar game of barb and bait fell away as he saw the details. Regulus was fully dressed, shirt tucked in, without the smooth slide of silk pajamas. Instead of the silence of bare feet on stone, his shoes were laced and polished. It had to be late: no first years scratching away, calculating exactly what they needed on their final scrolls of the term, no older students tucked into corners, trading secrets. But Regulus was dressed for a journey, his cloak draped over the back of the armchair.

"What is it?" he asked, afraid.

Regulus sighed, and Severus stopped breathing.

"I'm going. Tonight."

"What? You can't."

"I want you to come with me."

"No. I-"

"Please, Severus." Regulus watched him, eyes narrowed. His muscles coiled with the quiet focus of the seeker closing in on the snitch. "Come with me."

"There's still two weeks of classes left."

"You've had your NEWTs. Class doesn't matter."

"But you have a whole year left."

"I know what I need to know. You can teach me the rest."

"But we're so close!" His chest tight, Severus took a shaky breath, then let it out slowly. "Can't you wait one more year?"

"Come off it, Sev. The world has changed and you have to change with it."

"You're throwing away your future."

"No. I'm not." Regulus leaned forward, his unshakable confidence equal parts privilege and pig-headedness. "I know what I'm doing, and I'm going tonight. I just want to know if you'll come with me."

His voice cracked on the last plea, and Regulus looked away, swallowing laboriously. For his part, Severus focused on the feel of rough homespun between his fingers, the uneven shoddiness of it all, and tried to think. Madness, all of it, and how could he reason with that?

"You know I can't."

"Of course you can." Regulus seized upon the excuse, eager to convince him. "You're fantastic at potions, one of the best in decades, Slughorn says. I'm sure the Dark Lord needs-"

"No. That's not-"

"And you're good at dueling too."

"That doesn't matter!" He found himself yelling, and forced his hands to unclench. With his voice at a more controlled volume, he tried to be reasonable. "I'm half-blood. That's all they'll see."

The admission choked him, and he stopped. Why couldn't Regulus understand?

"Stop. It's not as if you're a Mudblood."

"Don't say it."

"Pretending you didn't say it won't get her back."

Severus was up, leaning into him, with his wand gripped in his hand. His body shook, and he hated Regulus for pushing him to this.

"You're not like her. Like them. You have wizarding blood, same as me."

"It's not the same, and you know it."

"We have a responsibility, and you're not exempt from that."

"You're a bloody fool."

"And you're a coward."

Severus sank back into his chair, burying his face in his hands. Regulus brushed by close enough to touch, but it was too late.

"I may be a fool for thinking you'd come. But I'm a Black, and I won't hide from what that means."

"Then go." He didn't look up, couldn't look at him. "Leave and don't come back. I don't care." He pinched his eyes shut, willing this moment to end.

"Fine." The word came out harsh and clipped, but Severus could feel him standing there, still and silent.

He didn't open his eyes.

Wood shifted in the hearth, a pop and crackle as something broke and settled. His breathing was harsh in his ears, labored and slow. He strained to hear, tried not to hear. Then the scuffle of leather scraping across stone, the whisper of footsteps muffled by cloth, and Regulus was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

The day was bright and sunny, but Severus kept to the shadows. Even hidden from the sun's merciless rays, the stiff fabric of his best dress shirt stuck to his skin. But Severus ignored his discomfort, attention focused on the bag he carried. His right arm stuck out at an angle so the satchel's movement would not jar the vials within.

Something darted into his path, squealing. He cringed as the vials clinked against each other. A filthy little boy smacked into him, and Severus lifted the satchel higher, out of the reach of the child's sticky clutches. Smeared handprints on his black wool cloak, but the vials were safe. He scowled down at it, and the creature ran, fleeing across the square. Severus saw them then, watching with grim eyes. A plain-looking family: a father, deathly pale, and Mum, clenched fingers white against the fabric of her skirts. They occupied Fortescues' spindly-legged cafe tables as grimly as the front lines. The boy knocked into his sister, making her drop her ice cream and begin to howl, but Mum didn't say a word. Too attuned to her husband's fear to take notice of her children.

Slowly, Severus drew his wand. Dad went green and his mouth snapped open in a gasp. Severus held the man's eyes, then looked deliberately away. He vanished the sticky residue from his robes, as the family retreated into the bunker of the shop.

Otherwise, Diagon Alley lay deserted. Few risked the exposure of open ground, and those forced here by necessity scurried from cover to cover. Their eyes slid away without contact, but he could feel their attention on him. Silence had settled over Diagon and only a few dared to break it, whispering fiercely in the corners or gossiping in huddled groups, secure in their numbers.

"-targeting mixed marriages."

Severus had his own business to attend to, but the fragment of conversation sent a shiver through him. Two women: one lanky and plain, near his own age, the other dour and matronly. He tailed them to hear more.

"At the wedding ceremony, even. Showed up in those horrible black robes, their faces all covered, and started..."

The girl looked over her shoulder, and Severus fell back. He pretended to study a storefront display of dark detectors and protective charms. Inside, the crowd seethed through the shop, desperate for an easy answer. Severus scowled and checked the women's progress. His long strides made it easy to catch up without appearing to hurry.

"-what I think, is they should have expected it. Being so public about it. A pureblood marrying a muggle in the middle of all of this. I mean, what did they think was going to happen?"

"I think it's romantic."

"Hogwash." The old woman laughed, and the rusty sound made the girl falter.

She recovered soon enough, piping up in a high, squeaky voice. "She must have loved him too much to care."

"If it was love, she would've took him off somewhere safe. Only reason to give that many Prophet interviews is if you want to be noticed. Well, she got noticed all right, and now she gets to wear widow's black for the next issue."

"Mother, that's awful!"

"Well, it's the truth of it, it is. Aren't none of us safe right now, and someone like that's already a target. You Know Who's not going to ignore that for long."

Severus turned aside, a sick feeling making his stomach squirm. He let the women get far ahead. He didn't want to hear more.

He stood for a moment, seeing nothing of whatever the shop had on display in its windows. Slowly he became aware of a face. A toddler stared at him through the glass. His face was pale, eyes huge and wide. A plastic wand trembled in his grip, clutched with both hands. The tip shook as he pointed it at the bad man on the other side of the window. Severus scowled, and the boy fled.

Enough. Severus didn't want to know what was happening. He didn't care about idiot witches and their idiot offspring, who thought everyone that wore black was out to get them. He needed hellebore, to finish his potion and earn a month's expenses on the black market. There wasn't time for this.

Severus smelled the Apothecary before he could see it. The stench of a hundred ingredients rolled out into the street, so thick it made his eyes water. He could identify each scent individually, but the chaos of them all overwhelmed him. Severus checked his bag one last time, making sure the vials were in order. He had only ingredients that could be gathered wild, nothing rare, but he had to trust that his skill in preparation would make up for their commonness.

"What do you want?" The clerk's voice was sharp and accusatory, and heads turned to stare before the reverberation of the bell over the door had faded.

"I've ingredients for sale." Severus held his potions kit out slightly, keeping both hands in sight at all times. The contents represented long, sweaty days of traipsing about in the woods, hours of tedious processing and refining. He could play nice, when necessary. "If you'd please take a look."

The clerk studied him for a moment, face pinched behind too small spectacles, and finally nodded acquiescence. Severus stepped forward, careful not to move too quickly, and placed his bag on the counter. The old man opened it and the fragrance of perfectly prepared Monkshood surrounded them. When picked too early or dried incorrectly, the odor was more earthy, and the delicate plant rotted too fast or crumbled at a touch. These were perfect, and the clerk knew his trade well enough to know it.

"Are you a registered potioner?"

"Recent graduate from Hogwarts, and I haven't gotten the paperwork back yet." Would never receive it, as the current wartime paranoia meant veritaserum and a disavowal of the black arts. Without it, he couldn't sell potions legally, leaving him few options. "The ingredients are of the highest quality, and I'm willing to accept a trade."

The clerk pulled out his wand, poking at the bottles doubtfully. His lips moved without noise, calculating value and amount as he rummaged in the bag. The ringing sound of wood hitting glass made Severus grind his teeth, and he clenched his hands behind his back to keep from snatching back the bag. The shopkeep set it to the side and leaned against the counter, considering.

Severus stood still while the man examined him. He would not apologize for the black robes or long sleeves. Beady eyes flicked to his forearm, lingering on the covering cloth too long, then back to his face. One hand closed over the handle of the bag, possessive. He wanted them, but Severus knew the answer before he spoke. The clerk pushed the bag back across the scuffed countertop before he could fall victim to temptation.

"I'm sorry, sir," he said, edging toward the back room, away from Severus. "Our customers demand security. I can't take the risk of purchasing ingredients from unregistered potioners, especially dangerous ones."

Severus took his potions kit back, and shoved his way past a startled customer. Let them think what they wanted. He'd be better off among those who didn't suspect him before he'd said a word. In Knockturn Alley, they didn't care about a Ministry stamp or where his ingredients came from. But they respected power, and he had none. He had nowhere else to go, and they didn't hesitate to take advantage.

After he'd gotten what he could, Severus leaned up against the brick wall of the alley. He couldn't go on like this. They'd moved on to half bloods, as he'd known they would. Soon, they would come for him, or for his mother. Neutrality wouldn't protect him.

He kicked at the wall, thinking. Regulus was right, he couldn't stay out of it. But it would never be as easy for him as it was for Regulus. He didn't have money or status. They wouldn't want him, any more than the Ministry did.

*/*

"Severus Snape." Lucius Malfoy wrinkled his nose in distaste at the new arrival. There was no warmth or welcome in his voice, but Severus had expected none.

"Malfoy." Severus spat out the name, deliberately leaving off the first name. He dropped into an exaggerated, formal bow at the same time, simultaneously mocking and courteous, so Malfoy couldn't challenge the slight. "At your service."

"Exactly right," and Malfoy didn't look pleased about it. "Narcissa may have hired you to make potions, but you can't hide behind her skirts for long." Severus grimaced. Manipulating Narcissa had been the most efficient strategy, but the play on her rebelliousness came at a cost. "I assure you, you are not one of us."

Severus said nothing. By coming here, offering himself, he was bound to this as irrevocably as the rest of them, even without the mark. But Malfoy didn't mean only that.

"If there's nothing else?" Severus clipped off each word, not bothering to couch his dislike in the shape of civility. He had to endure Malfoy's velvet-lined insults, but he didn't have to like it.

"You'll be summoned if your skills are required."

Malfoy waved a hand toward the hall's dim corners, and Severus hesitated, unsure. Only when an ancient creature crept from the shadows did Severus realize the gesture was not intended for him. He stared at the odd creature, with its overlarge ears and rheumy, bulbous eyes. It was streaked with soot, and he wondered where she, for he thought it must be a she by the way she moved, had managed to find so much dirt in such a pristine environment. A house elf, he judged by the tattered pillowcase, and lost interest. They were common enough in pureblood families, though Severus was unaccustomed to their presence.

"Show him to his rooms," ordered Malfoy, without glancing down at the prostrate elf. The elf pulled herself to her feet, age making the movement achingly slow, and started toward the stairs. He did not follow, waiting for Malfoy to spring his trap.

"No." Severus heard the smirk in his voice, so at odds with his lordly demeanor, and waited.

The elf stopped immediately, her batlike ears quivering with the fear that she had displeased him. "Master?"

"Not the guest wing. The dungeons."

"The dungeons?" he repeated, without meaning to. His voice was infuriatingly weak and thready, and Malfoy's smile widened, savoring the revelation of weakness. Severus bit the inside of his lip.

"Of course." Malfoy smiled widely, a perverse expression of cruelty veiled in civility.

Severus met Malfoy's icy gaze as best he could. Reason came to him then, cool and reassuring, and he swallowed down his irritation. "The best place for a potions laboratory, surely." The same as at Hogwarts.

He felt a tug at his leg and looked down into the bleary eyes of the house elf. Silently urging him to obey.

"Very well," he said. Arguing gained nothing, and Malfoy wouldn't budge in any case. It could prove advantageous to live apart, he told himself, and followed after her.

"And Severus...?" Malfoy's voice was cloyingly sweet, like the amber that entraps the fly. "Do see that you stay put. I would hate for anything unforeseen to happen to you. All alone in the dungeons."

The corners of Malfoy's mouth twitched, almost imperceptibly, as the ghost of a cruel smile twisted his features. He waved his hand, and this time the imperious gesture included them both. Already Severus had become a servant of the Manor, as powerless as the house elf.


	3. Chapter 3

Severus secured his wand inside his cloak and prepared for battle. Not that he'd been informed of the mission, or invited to join the attack. But he was done hiding in the dungeons.

He crept up the narrow stairwell and through the empty opulence of the main floor. Voices filtered in from the entrance hall, an indistinct murmur of restlessness and preparation. Severus halted out of sight and listened, judging the moment. He knew most of them now and could pick out individuals from the sea of voices. A few were classmates, and a month spent analyzing and planning had given him the rest. Malfoy stood far away, his voice slick and oily with the assurance of command. Closer, Severus heard the dangerous lilt of Bellatrix Lestrange, distinct among so many men, and her husband a low counterpoint almost lost beneath her voice. Wherever one brother was, the other would not be far behind. Severus waited, listening for Rabastan's laugh, and relaxed when it came. He would know that low barking laugh anywhere.

A new voice spoke then, strong and leisurely. The flow of voices ebbed, adjusting to the change, and Severus slipped into the room. He didn't recognize the newcomer but he knew the sound of authority, and it was all the distraction he needed. He only needed Malfoy's attention focused elsewhere; once he'd anchored himself within the group he'd be fine.

Regulus was caught in profile, turned away. Severus faltered and the gulf stretched wide. The fake smile was held stubbornly in place, but the muscles were stretched too tight. The performance fooled Evan Rosier, who was nodding along agreeably, but Severus knew better. He could read Regulus as easily as he could read his own handwriting.

"Severus."

The hiss of his name jarred him and he found Rabastan Lestrange grinning in his direction. He went to him, relief trickling through him at the distraction.

Rabastan offered his hand, and Severus shook it, smiling. He pivoted to face him, putting Regulus at his back. He didn't want to see.

"I heard you'd come to join the party, but I was starting to think it was just talk." At his brother's glare, Rabastan lowered his voice a fraction. "Where've you been hiding?"

"It seems my potions skills are invaluable." He didn't bother to keep the sarcasm from his voice, not for Rabastan. "They've kept me locked up in the basements, brewing."

Rabastan snorted, provoking his brother's disapproval, but no one else seemed to care. The normal buzz of conversation had resumed, and their voices were lost in the clamor.

"So we've heard," a soft voice added, as Senara drifted over to join them, standing possessively close to Rabastan.

"Why, Ms. Wilkes," Severus said, grinning. "How unexpected." Though he should've known she'd follow Rabastan.

Senara stuck her tongue out at him: a distinctly unladylike gesture. But her smile faded quickly, as she pulled him close and gripped his arm. "I can't believe you're here."

Severus made a vague noise, disconcerted. She was full blood, a third generation Slytherin, but her grandfather had been a mudblood. Not as far from the ideal as he was, but far enough.

"You never believed," she said. "And you didn't have anyone to follow in."

Severus froze, acutely aware of Regulus. Her eyes went wide at his expression, and her gaze slid past him, to Regulus. "No, I meant..." Embarrassment colored her cheeks pink. She looked to Rabastan for help, but he was pretending not to listen, looking anywhere but at them.

"Just doing my part," Severus answered, and changed the subject before she could try again. "What's the mission?"

Rabastan pounced on the question, eager to move to less awkward topics. "Lion hunting."

"Potter and Black?" He didn't hide the eagerness in his voice, and Rabastan's answering smirk confirmed it. All of them held a grudge against the Gryffindors, but none more than Severus. "Excellent."

Senara rolled her eyes at the exchange, but indulged him with an explanation. "The Order knows too much, and Lucius thinks they're behind it."

At that moment, Malfoy cleared his throat, and the muttering crowd fell into an expectant silence before Severus could find out more. Once everyone was focused on him, Malfoy pulled a mask from his cloak. There was a subtle shifting in the hall. Those in power donned the masks held casually till now, and the stragglers hurried to follow suit. Rabastan fell into place at his brother's side, Senara at his side.

Malfoy surveyed the group, his icy blue eyes the only pair not covered by weathered silver. When he found Severus, his lips thinned into an angry slash.

"Snape."

Severus gave him no reaction. His presence here was enough to risk Azkaban. That gave him the right to be here.

"I'm afraid there must have been a mistake." Malfoy smiled, an oily expression of contempt. "My apologies." He inclined his head slightly to Severus, a gesture that would have been courteous if it was genuine. "We don't need any... 'potions' today."

"I wasn't summoned."

Malfoy turned to his companion in feigned surprise. He pursed his lips, an actor's stage expression of innocence, and asked Severus, "Surely you're not lost?"

Someone snickered, and Severus' face burned with heat.

"I came to join the mission."

"How unfortunate." He shook his head sadly, and Severus longed to curse the fake smile from his face. "I don't believe we have any use for you."

"It's fortunate, then, that I've brought not my potions kit, but my wand." He gave Malfoy a tight smile. He was not as practiced at fighting with words as Malfoy, but he could hold his own when needed. "I've come to fight."

"Indeed?" Malfoy's brows rose at this statement, a perfectly arched portrait of surprise and skepticism. He made an odd sound in his throat, as if considering. "I won't be responsible if you manage to get yourself killed."

Severus spoke in an undertone, so only those closest to him could hear. "And I won't be responsible if you manage to screw up the mission." There was the faintest tremor of amusement from someone, but he couldn't be sure who. Malfoy whirled back to face him, eyes narrowed. Severus stared at him blankly, and there was nothing Malfoy could do.

He dropped all pretense of courtesy then, turning his back on Severus as he spoke. "Fine. If you want to tag along, so be it. Do try not to hex anyone wearing a mask."

Malfoy didn't look at him again, but he had what he needed. A chance.

*/*

"Why'd they use a filthy muggle barrister?"

The question came from his right, though Severus couldn't see the speaker beneath the disillusionment charm. By the slow stupidity of the voice, as well as the unthinking vulgarity, he guessed it was Goyle, but wasn't sure. Severus ignored him, hoping he'd shut up if not given encouragement.

The hidden figure grumbled, carelessly stepping in a puddle and splashing rainwater on Severus as he moved. Severus scowled, stiffening as he let the dirty water soak into his cloak. Disillusionments were wasted on those stupid enough to reveal their presence in other ways, and he wouldn't let someone else's clumsiness reveal him as well.

"Don't see why we have to wait around outside." Goyle mumbled to himself, loud enough to reveal their presence if anyone was listening. "Oughta kill them all, so we can wait inside where it's nice and dry."

"Quiet!" he snapped. When Goyle let out a protest, Severus whispered back an explanation, blunting the s sounds to lessen the chance of being overheard. "It's too cramped to fight in there, and he may not come alone. Now shut up, before I silence you myself."

There was a snicker from one of the other hidden Death Eaters, and he could still hear Goyle's movement, but there were no further arguments.

Severus watched the somber sky, jaw clenched as he considered the clouds. A hard rain would make their disillusionments useless, pinging impacts outlining their shapes clearly, and the grey sky threatened more rain at any moment. Moisture trickled down the inside of his collar as the minutes ticked by. His impervioused cloak was no match for London drizzle, and he resigned himself to being wet.

A noise then, from high above, and he forgot his discomfort as he squinted up at the overcast sky. The growl of an engine filtered down to him, instantly recognizable, but he couldn't find the glint of metal in the grey of the clouds.

The engine choked into silence as the bike approached street level, but not soon enough to keep Severus from tracking it to the alleyway behind the building. He heard footsteps on the cobblestones, the noisy thud of heavy boots walking into their trap. A figure emerged from around the corner, and he recognized the black jacket with indecipherable Muggle symbols scratched into the leather. The collar was turned up against the weather, his head lowered. Black seemed smaller huddled like that, but Severus would recognize that jacket anywhere, after how obnoxiously proud of it he'd been all year.

Severus remained motionless, waiting for him to come into easy range, but his fellows were not as patient. A curse flew just as Black rounded the corner. The conflicting magic dissolved the caster's disillusionment spell, lighting the dull silver of Regulus' mask with an eerie green glow.

But the spell had been cast from too great a distance, and the jet of light hit the bricks too high. Debris rained down over Black, blasted loose by the impact, and he jumped sideways. He took off at a run as the next spell flew, bad luck making it miss its mark. Another disillusionment failed and Malfoy shivered into view. With a frustrated curse, Malfoy waved them after their prey.

The failed ambush had turned to a hunt.

Severus stumbled into a run, joining the chase. He kept up at first, but let the others surge ahead after the first few turns of the winding alleyway. He would not set himself apart by mindlessly following the pack.

The alley emptied out into a busy street, and Severus paused, considering, as it began to rain in earnest. Most of the Death Eaters were out of sight now, only the slowest and laziest of them still blundering down the sidewalk, pushing people out of their way as they ran. They left a trail of screaming muggles in their wake as they stunned whoever got in their way and ignored the rest.

Severus fell into step with the flow of pedestrian traffic. Malfoy had left him maskless as an insult, but it let him blend in where the others couldn't. His black cloak was unremarkable among the rain-slicked Mackintosh of the crowd, and he kept his head down. Each person he passed let their gaze slide past him as he slipped through the crowd.

A wailing child clung to his legs as he stepped over her mother's unconscious body. He looked down into her scrunched, blotchy face. Tears streamed down her cheeks, mixing with the rain, and he knew. This was wrong.

Black loved muggles. He wouldn't take Death Eaters into their midst and leave them to suffer the consequences. He wore their clothes and listened to their music. He'd enchanted one of their machines, rather than relying on floo powder and apparition like a normal wizard.

The bike. Severus swore and turned back. He careened into an old lady and sent her sprawling into the man next to her as he broke into a run. The bike was the other direction. Either Black would double back, or it'd been a ploy. A rational man would abandon the motorcycle, but they'd fought each other long enough for him to know reason and Sirius Black didn't have much to do with each other.

As he backtracked, he caught the glint of a silver mask from the corner of his eye. A straggler, too lazy or too out of shape to keep up with his fellows, he thought. He ignored them, starting back up the alley from which he'd come. But when he heard footsteps pounding after him, he looked back to find the robed man following.

"Severus," he called out, "Wait up."

Severus knew that voice, and broke into a run, all attempts at secrecy forgotten as he splashed through the rainwater. But he was no match for Regulus' quidditch-primed muscles. The ridiculousness of trying to outrun him made Severus abandon the attempt. He sagged forward, hands on his knees, as he tried to breathe.

"What is it?" Regulus asked, catching up easily.

Severus kept his head down. The puddles reflected back distorted images of Regulus, a chorus of accusing, resentful faces.

"Where are you going?" Regulus wasn't even breathing hard, a fact which irritated Severus further.

"The bike," he explained, when he managed enough air to speak. He risked a look, to judge the reaction. "He'd never leave the damned motorbike."

Regulus stared at him, his grey green eyes the color of the slanting rain. Then he nodded. "You're right."

Severus forced himself to start moving, much slower this time. It would do him no good to arrive at a fight panting, so he stayed at a fast walk this time. Regulus matched his pace instead of leaving him behind, but Severus could read nothing from his expression. There was no acknowledgement, but no hostility either.

They reached the barrister's office without another word. The bike was still there. Regulus started to speak, but Severus hushed him, knowing their enemy could be close. Instead, he signaled him to the other end of the alley, using the silent hand signs they'd used when sneaking out of the dormitories at night. Regulus grinned, recognizing the gesture, and Severus looked away, a lump forming in his throat. They took positions on either side of the bike, guarding different approaches.

Severus crouched behind a bin, listening. The patter of the rain drowned out the sound of approaching footsteps, and he heard nothing until the muffled exclamation from behind. He whirled to see Regulus slide to the ground, the wand falling from his limp hand as he slumped into the mud. There was movement in the shadows, a whisper of fabric drowned in the sound of rain. But he could not make out the attacker or the subtle edge of a charm effect, no matter how hard he stared.

"You're in my way, Snivellus," growled Black's voice. Severus cast a stinging hex in the direction of the sound, but there was nothing there to absorb the magic. He'd missed.

"Had to come stick that giant nose in my business, didn't you?" A zigzag of light flashed toward him, from the left, and Severus adjusted his aim. The telltale rebound of raindrops marked his target, and he called another spell, but Black's hit first. The stunner hit dead center, and darkness took him.


	4. Chapter 4

Something nudged him between the ribs, hard. Severus rolled away from the pain, coming to rest curled on his side. He opened his eyes and light stabbed into his brain. Bile rose up in his throat and he squeezed his eyes shut.

"It seems our newest member has decided to rejoin us."

Malfoy's mocking voice oriented him, and Severus knew where he was. What had happened.

He slitted his eyes open. Rabastan was crouched over him, holding Severus' wand in one hand.

When the world didn't seem in danger of tipping him back into unconsciousness, Severus pushed himself onto hands and knees. When Rabastan let go, the alley swayed a bit, but Severus hung onto the brick wall and stayed upright.

There was no sign of Black or the motorcycle. Malfoy paced with his wand in hand, but the alleyway held no enemy. Severus couldn't see Regulus, but he could hear him, his voice blending with Senara's. The words were lost in the fall of rain, but their calm soothed Severus. He was okay.

"Enough." Malfoy glared down at him with the same expression of self-righteous displeasure he'd worn as prefect. Severus stifled a groan, and pushed himself off the wall.

"You'll both pay for your failure," Malfoy said. He muttered the incantation to lift the Manor's wards, and vanished with a snap of ozone.

Rabastan gave him an apologetic shrug and followed. Senara took Regulus' hand and apparated, pulling him along with her. Severus was left behind, with only a few moments before the wards closed. He concentrated and fought back nausea long enough to squeeze through.

When the entryway rematerialized, Severus lurched to an ornate side chair and sank into it, the fear of fainting outweighing the need to appear strong. The solidity of curved wood and smooth linen steadied him, until the sense of unreality passed.

"You return without my prize?"

The room seemed to catch its breath, and in the sudden silence, Severus could hear the faintest of sounds. A forced swallow, the nervous rustle of movement, quickly stilled. And the clunk of Malfoy's cane as he went down on one knee.

"My lord."

The bow was stiff and formal, a diplomat's gesture of strategic submission, but on Malfoy the move was startling. Severus stared, fascinated, at the man who inspired it.

Somehow, he'd expected a monster, with glowing red eyes or inhuman features. But the lines of the Dark Lord's face were harshly dramatic. High cheekbones echoed the delicate curve of arched brows. His eyes were a warm brown, deep and intent, but the warmth of them did not reach the rest of his face. He was handsome, as perfectly sculpted as a marble statue, and as unyielding.

"Report."

One hand rested on Malfoy's shoulder, then dropped. Malfoy rose, and arrogance settled back over him like a familiar cloak. Severus saw a flicker of amusement in the Dark Lord's eyes, but his stony expression showed no hint of it.

"The attack proceeded according to your orders. But one of the men failed to subdue the target, allowing him to escape."

There was a tremor of movement in the crowd, as those closest to Severus shifted away.

"I see. And the failure lies with...?"

"An inexperienced recruit, my lord." Malfoy swallowed, and his chin dipped slightly. "I should not have let him come. In that, I erred."

The Dark Lord fell silent, considering. In that moment of silence, Severus pushed to the front of the crowd. Senara's face was tight with worry and Regulus remained carefully neutral, but most avoided his gaze. Severus ignored them and came even with Malfoy before the Dark Lord.

"And this, I suppose, is the inexperienced recruit?"

"Severus Snape, my lord." Those sharp eyes focused on him now, but Severus didn't flinch. "However, it was not my lack of judgement that made the mission fail."

Malfoy stiffened, his face flushing, and the Dark Lord laughed. "I do believe he means you, Lucius."

"Snape was found unconscious, at the scene of Black's escape."

"Where I would not have been, if I'd followed your orders. I offered him a confrontation, at least."

"Disobedience is not a virtue."

Severus didn't respond, letting Malfoy drone on unopposed. The Dark Lord was studying him, head cocked to one side. His brow furrowed in concentration, eyes boring into Severus. Malfoy's angry voice was like the thrum of bees, and the persistent buzz seemed to come alive in his head, pressing against the inside of his skull. Severus closed his eyes and pushed away the odd sensation. The Dark Lord made a huff of surprise, almost amusement, and the buzzing faded.

"A simple task. To lie in wait, unseen, and fall upon a target unprepared. One would think failure impossible."

He stepped past them, gliding between his followers, and Severus turned to watch. He had power, this man who would rule everything, and Severus could see why they flocked to him. They gravitated to his power, his charm, caught in his orbit even as the fear of him made them mute. He was the sum of them: Malfoy's cool arrogance, the Lestranges' quick intelligence, Bellatrix's manic edge and Regulus' easy assurance. They could not help but follow.

The Dark Lord stopped in front of Regulus, reaching out to touch his face. Regulus swayed, but did not shy away. The hand on his cheek was almost a caress, and it made something in Severus ache.

"What is it, my child? You are troubled."

"I've failed you, master," Regulus said, his voice low and broken. "I cast too soon. My eagerness to confront my brother made me impatient, and the ambush failed."

"What else?"

"I was with Severus." Regulus looked to him, eyes full of uncomplicated loyalty, and Severus sucked in a sharp breath. But he turned back to his master and the connection was lost. "We went back for Sirius together. If that's a failure, it's mine as well."

"Why did you go back?"

"Severus has always fought my brother. He knows him as well as I do, and he figured it out."

"So you followed him back. And were defeated."

"Sirius has always beaten me at dueling." Fierce pride lit his face, even under the circumstance. The Dark Lord pulled away sharply, grimacing with distaste. "He's still a Black, and he had the advantage. There's nothing we could have done."

The Dark Lord turned away, dismissive, and was gone. Regulus' limbs shook, a bead of sweat trembling at his hairline before rolling downwards. The slightest movement, but Severus saw.

*/*

Severus went immediately to his potion, checking its progress. He'd left it to steep, locked away safe from tampering, but it was in his nature to recheck.

Satisfied, he lit the burner and moved the cauldron over the flame, pure and blue with heat. Over the whoosh of fire, he heard nothing, but the flame wavered for an instant, flaring to orange. Severus whirled to face the door, drawing his wand as he did so.

The heavy wood snicked shut behind Regulus, who raised an eyebrow at the wand in his hand, then came in to claim the only seat in the room. Thoughts raced through Severus' mind, doubt and longing and confusion, too fast to focus on. What were they now? He grasped at the only certain thought: Regulus had spoken up for him.

Something must have shown in his eyes, because Regulus cleared his throat and looked down. Severus put away his wand and went back to the simpler tasks of brewing.

"So we're not going to talk about it, is that it?"

Severus focused on the ingredient before him. He ruptured the delicate interior membranes with the flat of the blade, then punctured the skin with the point to catch the dark juice as it welled around the blade. He added the viscous substance as bubbles began to break the surface, trying to ignore his visitor.

"I'm not going anywhere, Severus."

"Talk about what, exactly?" He counted under his breath, stirring counterclockwise four times, clockwise twice, for seven sets, and if his movements were more clipped and violent than usual, so be it. "Do you expect a thank you? I didn't ask you to follow me. Or to stand up for me."

"Why are you here?"

The simplicity of the question stopped him for a moment. You didn't do things because you wanted to, nothing was that simple. "What choice did I have?"

"You haven't changed your mind about anything, have you?" Regulus didn't bother waiting for a response. "Of course not. You're never wrong about anything."

"I was wrong about you."

The accusation hung between them, a barrier he would not cross. Regulus sighed, the sound making him seem worn, as if he'd aged years instead of months in the time since they'd been together. Severus felt tired too, but he hadn't been the one who'd left.

"So why did you come?"

"This war affects me, no matter what I believe." Maybe Regulus was right, maybe it was simple after all. "I would rather be an instrument than a casualty."

Regulus studied him, and there was a flicker of something in his eyes. Then anger slid down over his features like a mask, and he stood abruptly. "I wasn't defending you. I don't know what you thought, but you're wrong."


	5. Chapter 5

Malfoy was a strong leader, he'd give him that, but Severus was an infinitely better strategist. To his satisfaction, it was not long before the Dark Lord began to take notice of his skills. A few carefully worded criticisms, observations whispered in the right ears, and he had captured his lord's interest.

"You wish to take the mark, Severus?"

"I wish only to serve."

The Dark Lord smiled, and the sight of it made his heart pound.

Behind him, Malfoy wrinkled his nose, as if smelling some foul odor. "My Lord, if I may be so bold..."

"You may not."

Malfoy took an involuntary step back, but the Dark Lord's focus never wavered. There was hunger in his eyes, a power that attracted Severus as undeniably as it repulsed him.

"He may be of use, and I will judge for myself."

"As you wish." Malfoy acquiesced with ill grace, scowling fiercely, but did not dare more.

"One does not become one of my chosen easily."

The Dark Lord waved Severus forward with one elegant hand, and he stepped forward.

"What must I do?"

"A test. I would know your mind before I take you as my own."

"Very well." His voice rasped, dry, and he tried to swallow down the sour taste of fear as the Dark Lord drew his wand.

"Legilimens."

The brown of his master's eyes absorbed the light, drawing him in, and the room seemed to darken around him. Pressure tightened around him like a clamp, and he instinctively fought, his breath harsh in his ears as he pushed back the shadows.

"Interesting." The voice seemed a world away, and it was a moment before Severus could process the word. "A natural occlumens. We shall see how he fares."

The pressure intensified and he fell, darkness swallowing him. Slowly, agonizingly, his mind began to split apart, quicksilver images shattering and sliding away. He fought to hang onto his memories, clinging to the most precious as they flashed by, but he could not protect them all. He couldn't resist such inexorable power.

So instead, he yielded.

Instantly, the pressure lessened, and he yielded, letting the Dark Lord rifle through the surface of his mind. With all the strength that remained to him, Severus held firmly to the things that mattered most, locking them deep inside. Regulus. Lily. His mother. Hid them in the core of himself, where the Dark Lord could not reach. And surrendered some, lest he lose them all.

...He was cowering beneath the kitchen table as his father stomped back and forth, searching. The cheap plastic tablecloth hid him from the harsh bark of angry voices, but he knew it was a matter of time. His mother stooped to peer underneath the dangling edge, and he saw she was weeping before she pulled the edge down further. He'd never meant to use magic...

...He was bent over a book of dark magic, memorizing curses by the light of the moon. It was his only birthright, passed to him in secret by a mother who knew no other way to protect him. She wanted him to learn control, to fade into the margins as she did, but he'd found a way to fight back...

...He was fighting, ambushed outside the transfiguration classroom by Potter and Black. They fought side by side, while he had no one to watch his back, but he fought viciously and well. He'd learned his lessons. They would all pay...

"Show me." The pressure narrowed, from constriction to probing invasion, and the flow of images shifted. Severus fought the change of direction instinctively, straining with the effort, and the images dragged by, ponderous and slow.

"Don't fight me. I will see what you know of those two."

The voice brought him some awareness of his surroundings. He was on his knees, hands knotted in the fibers of the carpet. But awareness came with a price, and, unfocused, he was forced back into his memories.

... He was falling, books skidding across the floor. They'd tracked him, waiting for him to be alone before attacking. But he was ready for them, and he came up fighting, slashing out with the spell made just for them...

... He was sneaking along the halls of Hogwarts, trailing Black. They were up to something, he was sure of it, and he would find out what. He crept from shadow to shadow, avoiding the patches of light cast by the full moon. He'd find out and all of them would be expelled...

... He was dangling upside down, everything turned on its head. They were laughing, all of them, their faces distorted and monstrous. Potter leered at him while the other three egged him on. He burned for revenge but could do nothing...

"His motives are genuine."

The Dark Lord released him, and he collapsed onto his stomach. Gasping, Severus struggled to rebuild the walls inside his head. The ring of Death Eaters moved to the far side of the room but waited, expectant. His legs shook, but with effort, he stilled their trembling and managed to stand.

At his approach, Dolohov shifted aside to make room for him, and the circle wordlessly widened to take him in. Though Malfoy's face was tight with anger, he said nothing. The Dark Lord nodded, signaling the start of a ritual Severus didn't know.

"You've passed the test, but only with the mark will you truly become one of us." It was Dolohov who spoke, and he was gentler than Severus had expected. A half smile twisted his lips, and the welcome in his expression seemed genuine. "Do you take the mark voluntarily, and by it, pledge yourself for now and for always?"

Tension jittered through him, and Severus held himself tall. He'd come too far to turn back, if it had ever been possible.

"I will take the mark."

The Dark Lord pulled his wand again, and Severus forced himself not to flinch. At Dolohov's cue, he knelt, and the Dark Lord seized his wrist with one hand, taking up the ritual.

"With my mark upon your flesh, you are linked to me. You will hear my call, and your presence will be known to me always. Through this mark, you will feel my power when you carry out my commands, and my wrath when I am displeased. Severus Snape, do you so pledge yourself?"

"I do."

His master pulled back the sleeve of his robe to expose pale skin crossed with lines, and Severus gritted his teeth. The tip of the wand dug into his flesh, and the contact burned like fire. The Dark Lord spoke, and the tip seemed to sink beneath the skin as Severus gasped. Incandescent lines of pure white radiated outward, searing through him. Everything else was blotted out, and there was nothing but agony. The magic curled through his veins, writhing within him like a thing alive.

The Dark Lord pulled the wand away and the agony receded slightly. Severus could feel it twisting through him, warping him as it moved.

"Accustom yourself to the feeling, learn to control it." The voice was kind, forgiving, but when their eyes met Severus had the impression of something lurking behind them, dangerous and half seen. He blinked and the movement was gone, only a trick of the light. "When you are ready, come to me. You have an assignment."

They left him then, in the growing darkness. Severus stared at the mark on his forearm, incandescent fire burned out into ash. The lines of it were black and unmoving, but he could feel the crawl of it on his skin. It lie dormant now, but he knew it waited to be rekindled. The stain went deeper than his skin.

*/*

The Dark Lord was settled comfortably at a small table, eating delicately off fine china. Severus stood just inside the door, not speaking.

"Have a seat, Severus."

There was a chair waiting for him, angled toward him, and a place set. Severus hesitated, and the Dark Lord gestured him in. "Eat with me."

Severus took his place, and stared down at his plate. It was steak, too rare for his tastes, and his stomach lurched at the idea of cutting into it. He reached for the wine glass instead, taking a nervous gulp.

"You said you had a task for me?" The wine was dark and strong, the color of blood. The reek of alcohol made his eyes water, but Severus gulped down another mouthful. He'd never tasted wine before, but it had the allure of something forbidden. It was stronger than he'd imagined it would be.

"I do, but do have something to eat first." The Dark Lord speared a piece of meat, popping it into his mouth and chewing with a look of focused attention. He ate slowly. Whether savoring the sensation or cataloguing it, Severus could not tell. When he paused, fork poised in midair, and shot him an expectant look, Severus relented. He picked up his fork and poked at his plate, seizing upon the accompanying salad as a palatable alternative.

"Much better."

They ate, focusing on the food. The sounds of normalcy surrounded him - the scrape of knife against porcelain, the liquid sound of wine poured from bottle to glass, the clink of fork against knife. Severus began to relax, the rhythm of it lulling him into a feeling of companionship. His master's voice was a comforting rumble, his own soft and unfocused. When he tried it, the steak was good too, succulent and tender. Each mouthful of wine was a little less surprising, a little more pleasant. He felt strangely warm and loose, and decided he liked the wine after all.

When they'd finished, the empty plates disappeared, leaving only the bottle and goblets. His master was watching him, but Severus couldn't quite focus. He set down his glass, and it hit crooked, wobbling dangerously. Severus grabbed for it at the same time as his master, but they were too late and some of it sloshed over the side. Ruby red droplets marred the pristine white tablecloth, brilliant against the snowy linen. Severus pulled back his hand, heat rushing through him, and stared. The red stain crept outwards, tiny spiderweb veins spreading out as it seeped into the whiteness.

"Come. Let's discuss the plans I have for you." The Dark Lord led him to a small alcove with the lightest of touches on his shoulder.

"Yess, I would like to know about this assignment." His voice sounded funny to him, the s sounds hissing too much, like tiny snakes were hiding in his words. The thought was funny too, and he bit his lip, trying not to laugh.

"I know what you want, and I can give it to you." The Dark Lord was right next to him, the soft lilt of his voice and the warmth of his body, close enough to make him shiver. "I can give you your revenge."

"Revenge?"

"Your classmates, the boys who tortured you for so long, they are proving a nuisance, and I need someone who can outsmart them."

"You want me to..." The room was swimming, and Severus wasn't sure what was happening. "To catch them for you?"

"You've hunted them for so long already, and now you have me to help." His master's voice was so soft, nearly a whisper, and it was such a small thing to ask. "It would be so easy, now that you have me on your side."

"I'll hunt them." It was what he'd always wanted anyway, and it seemed like his entire life had been leading up to this point. He was teetering on the brink, and the Dark Lord was waiting, watching. "I'll do this for you."

A slow lazy smile crept across his master's face, and Severus let himself fall. It was so easy to say yes.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Who's still with me? If you've read this far, I'd love to hear what you think of how the story's going. :)


	6. Chapter 6

And it _was_ easy.

He had so much to learn, and the Dark Lord showed him so many new things. There was an entire library of dark magic in the manor, overlooked and ignored. It was a cavernous room, with bookcases to the ceiling and heavy drapes to keep out the sunlight. When Severus looked up to the top shelves, the tops seemed to dip toward him, closing in. So many secrets hidden in the ancient tomes. Severus spent hours cracking apart gold-edged pages grown stiff with dust. His master understood the power of forgotten knowledge, and Severus revealed them to him eagerly. Severus could have lost himself in the feeling of these moments, hoarding the look of satisfaction in his master's eyes, but he could not forget the task he'd been given.

The Gryffindors haunted him; Black's face loomed up at him from the shadows, and Potter's look of pity followed him at every turn. He was getting closer, figuring out their patterns, tracking their movements since graduation. Winter turned into spring, and the chase went on. There were small victories: an Order member brought down at a rendezvous, an Auror killed, an ambush prevented. But the Gryffindors always slipped away, and he was growing desperate.

Until he tracked them to a muggle village as spring turned to summer, with the full moon only a few nights away.

Lupin would be weak: his movements slow and his magic limited. The rest would be trapped by their own sympathy. Severus knew how it would play out. Potter would play the hero, and Severus would back them into a corner. Black would be a challenge, but once his allies were eliminated, he would turn to run. Severus could see it all, and his hand itched to cast the spell that would bring them down. There would be no escape.

But Severus had never planned on Lily.

"Reducto!" The spell went spinning towards Potter. Lily yanked him sideways, and wasted energy crackled across the wallpaper.

Severus was masked, but she would always know him. Her head whipped toward the sound of his voice, and he saw the emerald eyes widen in shock. For an instant she froze, staring at him as if the chaos around her did not exist. Then she closed her mouth, tightened her grip on her wand, and turned away. Her disappointment cut him to the bone, and his next spell went wide.

They fell back to protect the wolf, Lily and the idiot she'd fallen for. Fighting side by side, they had an easy grace that made Severus seethe with anger. Lupin was pale and sweating, but managed a stream of pitiful shield charms for them, casting again and again as each fell, and together the trio endured their attacks.

Black was a terror in his own right. He dropped Senara with a stunning spell and ran wildly at Goyle, shoving and punching until Goyle crashed through a table. Pettigrew popped up with a jinx - how had he forgotten about Pettigrew? - and Severus stunned him before he could get off a second spell. Rabastan was pinwheeling backwards now, blood streaming into his eyes, and his brother fell back with him.

They were going to lose.

Despair welled up in him, a black curtain that threatened to blot out everything. He would fail his master, and Black would defeat him. Again.

No. Black had the same weaknesses. He was insane, but as much a Gryffindor as Potter. He would fall for the same ploy.

Severus shook off his despair and gripped his wand, hands steady. He focused on a crack in the ceiling, took aim, and fired. The spell hit and the crack began to widen, molecules disintegrating as the ceiling began to crumble. It gave way, crashing down, and buried the wolf in debris. Potter fell back to help and Severus let Black drive them off in a truly spectacular display of heroics. Leaving the others to dig out their friend, Black sacrificed himself in typical Gryffindor fashion, singlehandedly trying to fight off a ring of foes.

Severus couldn't help but laugh, as Black was predictably overwhelmed and knocked unconscious with a stunning spell.

*/*

Their spy in Hogsmeade, captured and exposed. An ambush on their forces in Cornwall, when they should've been undetected. The Ministry attack, when they targeted a delegation of foreign wizards and found a squad of Aurors waiting instead. Too many to be coincidence, and the leaks had started when Potter and Black joined the Order.

"How did you know about the Ministry attack?" he demanded. They were at the center of it, somehow. The Gryffindors were to blame, Severus was sure of it.

"We smelled the stench, and knew there were filthy Death Eaters in town."

Severus slapped him, hard, and drops of blood spattered onto the wall. The red stain on Black's teeth made him ghoulish, a stretched rictus of a smile grinning up at Severus. Never breaking eye contact, Black wiped his mouth, irons clanging as he moved, and then shook his hand so that blood and saliva flew everywhere.

Severus stepped back distastefully, wiping at the stains on his robe. He frowned and pulled his wand. "Do you have an informant or did you find out our plans for yourselves?"

"My ears are as big as your nose so I hear everyth-"

"Crucio."

The Unforgivable made his skin crawl, but the sensation was no worse than when his master's mark moved inside of him. He'd thought it would hurt somehow, that the pain would flow through him to his victim. But Severus felt nothing, separate and chilled, as Black cried out and writhed with the heat of the spell.

Black stopped jerking as the spell faded. Sweat ran down his face and he was panting heavily. But when he pulled himself onto all fours and glowered up at Severus, he was no less defiant. The muscles in his face twitched, and Black started to open his mouth. To heap on another insult, no doubt. Severus lifted his wand, and Black's eyes flicked to the movement. For what was most likely the first time in his life, Black shut his mouth.

"Do you have someone on the inside?"

Black said nothing, morose and sullen, and Severus made him scream twice more. But each spell made Black withdraw further, and Severus didn't maintain it for long. He took no small measure of satisfaction in hurting him, but Severus needed information. Torturing him to unconsciousness or madness wouldn't help. Physical methods failed too, and Black seemed to revel in the direct approach, trading curses and insults for every blow, every question.

He would accomplish nothing through torture.

Severus squatted down, resting against the cell's far wall. They were the same level now, and Black shot him a quick look of surprise before sullenness settled back over him. Blood was smeared all around him, sweeping arcs of red on the paving stones where cruciatus had made him seize and shake. The mortar drank it up, sucking greedily until the runnels between stones were swollen with blood and darkening to black.

He was being too direct. Blacks were too stubborn to outlast, he knew that. Butting heads with a Gryffindor was a pointless endeavor, but he could outsmart one any day.

Severus smiled, letting it spread slowly across his face for the prisoner to see. Black scowled back, but his eyes were worried.

"I've been going about this all wrong." Severus stood, inspecting his wand fastidiously. He found a smear where red shone dully on the dark wood, and rubbed it off on a corner of his cloak. The stains bothered him, but they would come out. "You're a special prisoner. So maybe you deserve special treatment."

*/*

Veritaserum was tricky: a month long prep time, with a dozen finicky steps to trip up the novice. Finding a version that couldn't be used against him was trickier. Severus had experimented to find something he could exploit: a substitute ingredient with an antidote. It had been easy enough to delay, stretching the procedure long enough for his system to absorb the antidote. Severus smiled, and added the final ingredient. He would be immune, and Black would have no protection.

With the cauldron brewing, he took the knives and mortars to the sink for cleaning. He left the tools to soak and let the warm water run across his hands. He'd washed the blood from his hands before beginning, but his hands were red and raw from scrubbing, and the running water was a soothing caress.

"Couldn't get the stain off?"

He whirled, to find Regulus on the other side of the low workstation. His wards hadn't triggered though, so they'd sensed no harmful intent. Severus stared at him for a second. Regulus gave him a lopsided look, black hair falling down over grey green eyes, and Severus felt the side of his mouth twitch instinctively in response.

"Some things are too sensitive for cleaning spells," he snapped. "I'm fairly certain Slughorn covered that before you ran off."

"He did." Regulus hid a smile, poorly.

Severus turned his back as he washed off the knife. His fingers moved in quick, practiced movements, always with the direction of the blade. He took his time, making Regulus wait, but at last he could stretch the task no further. He dried off the knife, leaving the rest to soak.

Without the rush of water, the gentle gurgle of the cauldron filled the room. Severus listened, hearing the soft sigh of the venting spell and the drip of the faucet into the sink. But try as he might, he could pick up no sound from Regulus.

He'd grown so accustomed to the subtle shiftings of the other man that his stillness unnerved him. Regulus was always in motion, even the most solemn of moods punctuated by the thrum of movement. A twitch of muscle, the crook of a smile, the tap of a finger. He was barely contained, and some of that energy always overflowed, breaking the surface. Severus had learned to read these quiet movements as easily as a textbook, and without them he felt unprepared.

"What do you want, Regulus?"

Regulus looked down, inspecting his hands, and the moment of stillness was broken. Severus heard the soft exhalation of his sigh, saw the shoulders drop slightly. He scratched at the fabric of his cloak, a ragged fingernail catching at the cloth.

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to get him to talk."

"You can't break him, you have to realize that." Regulus leaned forward, a frown making his features seem heavier, older. "Sirius will never break under torture. He's-"

"I know that." Severus grimaced, remembering the pattern of smeared blood on the floor of the cell. "Now."

"Then what?"

Severus turned away, trying not to look at Regulus. He made sure each bottle was sealed properly, tucking them into their proper place and turning the labels forward. Unnecessary, of course, he knew them too well to mistake one for the next. But it was a reason not to think of Black curled in pain, or the echo of that pain in his brother's eyes. He didn't regret it, but he couldn't watch Regulus suffer for it.

"Not torture. Or no more than he needs to believe, that is."

"What are you planning?"

Severus gave up. He turned to face his inquisitor, holding his chin high. "The Dark Lord gave me a task. I'll do what I have to."

"Severus, please." Regulus sounded broken, his voice cracked with strain. "He's still my brother."

"I know that. But he made his choice."

"Tell me, please." Regulus got up, beginning to pace. He trailed his hands across the countertop as he moved, and each repetition brought him closer to Severus. When he was only a few meters away, close enough to touch, one hand gripped the lip of the counter as he faced Severus. "I need to know."

He was hanging onto the edge, as if it was the only thing holding him to this moment. Severus couldn't bear to see him swept away.

"Veritaserum," he said, almost a whisper.

Regulus closed his eyes, but he didn't let go. He was hanging on, and the current was getting stronger.

"It won't hurt him." His throat was suddenly tight, and Severus cleared his throat. "Reg, I don't... Isn't that what you want?"

"No, I..." Regulus let go, closing the distance between them in a second. "You can't, Severus."

He was so close that Severus could see every detail, every tiny imperfection. The scratch under his chin he'd gotten standing up for Severus, the day they'd met. The scar beside his right eye, where a bludger had knocked him from his broom during practice in his fourth year. The exact spot on his cheek where it would dimple when he smiled.

Severus took a step back, banging into the cabinet behind him. The bottles rattled, in danger of falling, but he didn't care.

"I don't understand." He brought one hand up, wanting to push Regulus away, wanting distance, but Regulus reached for him instead, grabbing his hand. Severus fell still, afraid to move. "My mission. He needs me to-"

"I warned Sirius."

His mouth went dry and Severus couldn't do anything but stare.

"In London. When he knocked us out. Sirius knew we were coming because I told him."

"You told him?" Blowing the ambush, trying to stop him from going back. Things clicked into place, and Severus saw what he'd been blind to before. "You lied to me."

"I had to."

"You're the one who wanted to come here." Severus ripped his hand out of Regulus' grip. "This was your idea."

"That's not fair."

"Fair?" Severus spat out the word, but the foul taste of it lingered in his mouth. "You want me to... what - let him go? Cover for you?"

"I don't know!" Regulus smacked the flat of his palm against the counter, a meaty thump that startled them both. "I don't have all the bloody answers, but if you use truth serum, he'll expose me."

All the fight went out of Severus then. He sagged against the counter, defeated.

"I can't just let him go. The Dark Lord wants... I can't fail him."

There was a touch on his arm, but Severus didn't look up.

"Can't you try something else? He'd never give me up willingly."

Severus made a gruff sound in his throat. He wasn't so sure of that. "I can't. Malfoy knows."

"You told Lucius?"

"If the questioning stopped, he'd know. And it works better if they aren't fighting the effects." Regulus pulled his hand away sharply, but it didn't stop him from continuing. "Malfoy's supposed to keep him busy."

Regulus sucked in a breath and they stared at each other. "Bloody hell."

Severus put out the fire and left the finished potion to cool. They were out of time.


	7. Chapter 7

The Dark Lord's chambers were unlit, the vague shapes of armchairs and desk shadowed in darkness. Severus hesitated on the threshold, reluctant to enter his master's chambers uninvited.

"My lord?"

There was no answer, but he heard the sound of movement from further in. Feeling his way, he moved through the study into the bedroom. The details were lost in shadows, but the white of the sheer bed curtains glowed in the dimness, catching and holding his gaze. Severus hurried past, finding his way more easily as the light grew stronger, and called out again.

"Up here."

The light, and the voice, came from an alcove on the upper level, where double doors opened onto a small balcony. The Dark Lord had pushed aside the drapes, and moonlight streamed in around him. Severus climbed the iron staircase, circling up to join his master.

He'd propped the doors open to let in the summer night. The air carried the scent of yew and the sound of crickets.

"Come see."

The Dark Lord turned to him, and the moonlight caught the lines of his face. Severus' step faltered, remembering another moonlit night, a black-haired boy radiant and beautiful beneath the shadowed trees. But that was why he was doing this, for Regulus. He banished the memory, locking it far away from this moment, and went to his master.

"I have news, my lord."

The balcony was tucked in above one of the gabled roofs of the Manor, a space barely large enough for two. A thin railing was all that protected him from the sky, swimming with stars. Severus trembled at the vastness of it and clutched at the railing. Dizzy, he retreated to one of the chairs. But the Dark Lord leaned out into the moonlight as if he could become one with the stars.

"Make your report, if you must. But then you must stay and watch the night with me."

"Very well." Severus cleared his throat, trying to ignore the yawning emptiness all around him. "The veritaserum was added to his water while he was unconscious."

"And the interrogation?"

"We're letting him recover naturally so he doesn't know to resist the potion, then we will begin. By morning, he will be yours."

"Excellent." The Dark Lord moved back beside Severus, eyes fixed on the sky. "Do you believe in destiny, Severus?"

"My lord?"

"The muggles have discovered something. Charon, who grants passage to the land of the dead and returns heroes back to the living." The Dark Lord crouched next to him, balancing himself with a hand on Severus' arm, so they shared the same viewpoint. His expression was intent as he searched, and his dark eyes reflected the stars above. He smiled, satisfied, and pointed upwards. "There."

Severus looked, but saw nothing. They were far enough from settlements that the sky was normally bright here, but the full moon flooded the sky with light. He saw the pinpoints of stars, and a few clustered constellations, but the sky where his master pointed held nothing for him.

He held one hand up to block out the glare of the moon, focusing on the spot. The stars seemed to jump, brighter, but there was nothing to see. "I'm sorry, I can't see anything."

"You wouldn't. It's not visible with the naked eye."

"Then why…?"

"That's the point." His master's fingers tightened on his arm, and Severus flinched away. The Dark Lord didn't seem to notice.

"I don't understand."

"It's there, hidden. It's exerting force on me, right now, and it's always been there. The muggles just discovered it, but Charon's eternal." The Dark Lord leaned back, resting against the wall. "He's been waiting all along for the next hero to come."

Severus didn't understand, but stared dutifully up. The movement of the sky held no meaning for him: something to be studied when tests required it, nothing more. He dug his meaning from the earth, cutting power from her roots and creatures and distilling them to their essence.

"I'm sorry, my lord. They're only stars to me."

His master laughed. The musical sound floated in the still air, and the crickets died. "You lack the eye of knowledge, Severus. But some of us are made for stars."

They drifted into silence. Severus didn't care about stars, but the night air was sweet. After a moment, the crickets resumed, and he closed his eyes to listen to their song. Somewhere under this moon, the wolf ran wild while his friend languished in darkness. Somewhere in this castle, Black endured Malfoy's attentions while the potion worked within him, a lit fuse. Somewhere, Regulus was with Rabastan, creating an alibi while the fuse burned down. Severus waited, patient, for the inevitable explosion.

The Dark Lord began to hum softly, a resonant sound that seemed to make the particles of the air vibrate around them. The sound was at once forlorn and full of longing, and when Severus opened his eyes to look, his master was back at the railing, leaning out into space. Severus studied the shape of him, black against the sky, and tried to understand. But he didn't know the melody, and meaning eluded him. He saw only a man, leaning out into the void, and they were drawn in his wake.

*/*

When the messenger came, Severus had grown drowsy, lulled by the sounds of the summer night. They called out from the entrance, not crossing the threshold into darkness, and the Dark Lord turned to go. His master touched his arm as he passed, and left the sky behind.

Severus climbed down to follow his master, and the solidity of the carpeted floor was a relief after the openness of the balcony. Light blazed from the study, casting the bed into sharp relief as the lines of it formed shadow spears and razors all around him. Severus steeled his mind for what was to come.

It was Dolohov who delivered the news, his spine stiff and solemn. There was no fear in his posture, but he did not meet the Dark Lord's eyes. The prisoner had escaped, he reported. Malfoy left him alone, and the cell was empty when he returned.

In the silence after his news, the messenger fell still.

"Severus, here." The sound of his name was an angry hiss, the command clipped and tight. Tension rippled through him, but Severus stepped forward. "Your arm."

It took him a second to understand, but then he obeyed, holding out his left arm.

The Dark Lord seized his wrist, fingernails like talons, and yanked back his sleeve, exposing the flesh of his arm. The skull and snake lay dormant, but jumped into life at the touch of their owner's wand. Severus gritted his teeth at the writhe of magic, and clenched his eyes shut as his master used him to summon Malfoy.

Malfoy appeared immediately. He dropped into a crouch at his master's feet with his mouth already moving. "Master, I'm s-"

"Crucio."

The Dark Lord's spell caught him in mid sentence, and the apology got caught in his throat. The S hissed out, sibilant and strangled, as his body bucked under the strain. His hands reached toward Severus, clawing at the carpet, and Severus took a startled step back.

"You have used Cruciatus, have you not?"

Severus tore his eyes away from the writhing figure of Lucius Malfoy to find his master watching him. His eyes were cold, without the slightest flicker of emotion, and they measured each of his movements with clinical interest.

"Yes, my lord."

Malfoy's breathing was thick and labored, a hideous wetness to it that made his own breath come fast and painful. He couldn't help it, he had to look back, and that perfect blonde hair had come undone, falling tangled and messy over Malfoy's face.

"Yet this distresses you."

"I... That was on an enemy, on Black." Severus forced himself to look away. To see only his master. "Not on one of us."

The Dark Lord flicked his wand, as casually as if he was turning the page in a book. Malfoy screamed again, but Severus didn't dare look away.

"And this concerns you?"

"No, my lord. We are yours to command. To... Punish." Every nerve in his body was coiled with tension. He would end up beside Malfoy if he failed this test. "It is your right."

"Fear is a tool, Severus. Use it on your enemies to gain information or to show them their place." His master turned him to face Malfoy, one hand on each shoulder, holding him in place. "But it can also bring understanding."

His master pulled the wand from his cloak, trapped Severus' fingers beneath his own, and curled his fingers around the wood. He extended his arm toward Malfoy, pulling Severus with him. "You must learn to wield it."

When the spell came again, he was a part of it. The energy welled through him, an arc of electricity that made his muscles sing as Malfoy danced at the other end. Severus had felt nothing when the spell had been his own, but now he was caught as conduit. He was bound to them both, trapped inside the magic, and when the words came again his lips moved along with his master's.

Severus didn't know at what point his master's hand left his own, but when the touch came at his cheek, wiping away moisture, he trembled. The spell faded and he was empty.

"Never deny fear to those who need it," The Dark Lord said, and left them both, discarded. He was shaking and so was Malfoy, his body twitching with tiny tremors. The Dark Lord never even asked how Black escaped.

Malfoy raised his head, staring with those icy blue eyes. Severus pulled back his arm, and the wand fell from numb fingers, clattering to the floor.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

Malfoy's eyes narrowed, twin slits of cold blue. Severus fumbled to retrieve his wand and fled.


	8. Chapter 8

The precision of ingredient preparation calmed him. Slicing each pod exactly in half, mashing with the flat of his blade, pressing and sliding until it was the correct texture. Each batch required his attention, his eye for detail, and it kept Severus focused.

He'd stopped shaking.

The knife slipped and nicked his thumb. Cursing, Severus pulled back and stared at the cut. He'd sliced the tip of his finger, not deep, but a pinprick of blood welled to the surface. He squeezed, and the spot grew, spreading along the line of the cut. The surface quivered for a second, then broke, rolling down the length of his finger.

"Evanesco." The ruined batch vanished, and Severus glanced to the empty doorway before pulling out a fresh cutting board. He turned away, going to his shelves and considering the raw ingredients stored there. He picked up first one jar, then another, rolling them back and forth in his palms. This one needed longer to dry; that one had to be added to potions immediately; a third was in too small a quantity to bother with.

Severus squinted at the bottle in his hand, reading the handwritten label. i14-12-77, M. Gardens/i. Right before he'd taken the mark. He rubbed his finger across the tiny numbers, but the ink didn't smear. Severus started to put it back, but there was a tiny smudge of red on the bottle now and he thrust it into the trash instead.

He thought he heard something, and whirled to face the door, but there was nothing there.

Severus gave up on the shelves. Everything was exactly as it should be, and he didn't need to do anything. He paced back and forth, going through lists in his head, trying not to look.

When he passed by the cutting boards for the third time, he picked up the bloody one and threw it into the sink, turning on the tap. The water ran across the mess, sodden lumps slowly forced away by the insistent push of water, the stain of red lost in the muddied water. Severus turned his back to the sink.

Letting the water run, he stalked over and stood in front of the door. He went so far as to check the ward, placing his hand on the doorknob to feel the dull throb of the spell, undisturbed. Where was he?

Severus scowled, going back to turn off the tap, then stood there, waiting. He picked up a towel, and dried the counter absently, then a flash of red caught his attention. Blood, from the forgotten cut.

Severus crumpled the towel and threw it, disgusted, and went after Regulus.

*/*

His rooms were deserted.

Severus kicked at the floor, trying to think where to look next. His gaze roamed over the lush bedroom, passing over the useless decoration of it without much thought. As a Black, and one of Malfoy's precious purebloods, Regulus merited lavish quarters in the main Manor, but he didn't belong here. The decor was all Malfoy: antique chairs too stiff to sprawl on and finicky fabrics that would not bend.

Regulus must hate this place.

It wasn't the conspicuous wealth - his room at Grimmauld Place had an excess of that, certainly, and Regulus brought that casual entitlement with him to the dorms. But for all that, Regulus was more genuine than this. His dorm room had felt inhabited, warm and comfortable despite the touches of wealth that Severus tried to ignore. The artifacts of life formed a whirlpool around Regulus: photographs and scraps of parchment, quidditch gear and mementos. Life got caught up in the vortex of his energy, drawn into his orbit as Severus was.

There was little of that here. Severus leafed through his desk, but everything was tucked out of sight. Hidden behind fancy drawer pulls, the half-gnawed sugar quills and crumbled bits of parchment offered some reassurance, but the important things were missing. He could do a locator spell; find Regulus. But lacking a physical talisman, he needed something invested with spirit to make it work. Severus scowled, impatient, but it had to be important to Regulus.

He moved to the dresser, searching. Clothes were tumbled loosely, unfolded, in a mess untamed by even the most stubborn house elf. Severus dug deeper, leaving the chaos worse than before. It had to be here.

In the fourth drawer, he found it. The photograph was at the back, wrapped inside one of his favorite jumpers, but the shape and weight of it was familiar, and Severus knew it at once. He picked up the bundle and took it to the bed, trembling. Severus pushed back the thick cabled wool, and the dull sheen of aged silver winked out at him. The frame was heavy in his hands, and Severus sat, staring. iToujours pur/i. The space between letters was dark with age, but the words and crest stood out clearly.

He'd seen the image a thousand times, but it still sent a stab of jealousy through him. Regulus radiantly happy, adoration on his childish face as he beamed up at his older brother. Sirius had one arm thrown around his shoulders, laughing, and he reached down to muss his brother's hair. Regulus' mouth moved, saying something, and then he was laughing too.

Anger flooded through him and Severus thrust the picture away, covering it completely. It had been taken before Regulus' first year at Hogwarts, on the platform at King's Crossing. Before he'd been sorted Slytherin, and Sirius had turned his back. But Regulus had kept it by his bedside every year, even after his brother had abandoned him once and for all.

This was their fault, both of them. Sirius for leaving his brother and turning him to all of this, and Regulus for caring enough to risk everything.

Severus pulled the photograph out, glaring down at their laughing faces. They were so young. When Black wasn't sneering and spitting curses, he was nearly as handsome as Regulus. They looked a lot alike, when he forced himself to really look. Too much alike. Severus remembered Black with blood on his teeth, staring eyes beneath matted black hair. He shuddered, and imagined the grey eyes touched with a shade more green. Would Regulus look so very different?

His hands clenched on the frame, almost painful. He couldn't let that happen.

Severus pressed the tip of his wand into Black's temple, saying the incantation as Black laughed up at him. The photograph rattled in his hands for a second, frame glowing. He tucked it into his cloak, keeping one hand on it as he went out into the corridor, and followed its vibration toward Regulus.

The spell led him downstairs and deeper into the Manor. Each level he dropped made the tension twist tighter in his gut. By the time Severus was deeper than where Black had been held, the walls had changed to unfinished rock and the blood was pounding in his ears. He was sweating, the vibration from the photograph so strong now that it shook his whole body. He was running now, one hand gripping the photograph, the other his wand. Abruptly, the frame went still and Severus pulled his next step up short, staring at the door: all that separated him from nightmare.

Severus heard the thick meaty thump of flesh against flesh from the other side of the door and he was a child once more. His intellect screamed at him to throw open the door, to save them, but it was drowned out by the rush of blood in his ears. He couldn't move, couldn't face what was outside of his bedroom door. It was all his fault, and he was powerless to save her. He could hear her sobs, smell the dusty scent of cheap plaster, and he cringed back from the door.

No! He couldn't do this now. Severus focused on the feel of his wand between his fingers, following the subtle pattern of its grain and trying to anchor himself to this moment. He pressed it to his face, inhaling the strong smoky musk of ebony wood until it drowned out the dusty scent of memory. He opened his eyes, and catalogued the details: the door was rough-hewn wood, thick and solid, not paper-thin plywood; it was barred with iron bands, sturdy and strong, not water stained and warped along the bottom. He drew in a shaky breath and forced himself to move, to cross the hallway and press his hands against the wood. The sight of his own hands shocked him, long strong fingers, so much stronger than they had been then. He was eighteen, a grown man, not a twelve year old, and he could do this.

He rested his forehead against the door, listening. He was in control now, and his intellect demanded a plan of attack. A scream, but he knew that. Malfoy's voice, and beneath that something else. Severus pressed his ear to the seam between door and frame, waiting. After a moment, the low rumble of another voice, distinct beneath Malfoy's cultured drawl.

Regulus screamed again, and Severus forced himself not to move. Malfoy's voice came again, closer to the door this time, and he was able to make out some of the words.

"-working together, I know you are." Malfoy's voice, then a series of thumps that he couldn't make out.

"Fuck you." Still defiant, and Severus shook his head, disbelieving. After everything, he would still go through hell for his brother. Black didn't deserve it.

"Tell me what he's planning." The murmur of an incantation, and Regulus cried out.

"I won't." Regulus was louder now, sobbing out the words. The sound was broken, ragged with pain, and Severus braced himself, the tip of his wand poised above the mark on his arm. His master would sense the pull on his magic, but Malfoy wouldn't be able to tell the difference. Even Malfoy would not ignore a summons. Whether he took his lackeys with him or left them to guard Regulus, it would balance the odds and give him a small window of time.

"Snape wouldn't do this for you."

The air froze in his lungs, and he stopped. He held the wand ready, but couldn't form the words of the spell.

"He would never risk himself to keep your secrets."

For him?

Regulus said something, reckless and defiant, but Severus didn't want to hear. The screaming began anew, and he whispered the words of the incantation, feeling cold inside. The room fell silent as Malfoy felt the touch of the summons, calling him to his master, and Severus closed his eyes. Muttered curses erupted from beyond the door, then Malfoy barking out commands.

"Crabbe, stay with the prisoner. You, with me."

The pop of apparition as the power of the mark pulled them through the Manor's wards, and only one remained. Severus opened his eyes and pushed open the door.

Malfoy was wrong. For Regulus, he would take the risk.

*/*

Spinner's End.

When he was far enough from Manor's wards, Severus knew where he must go. Malfoy would never think to look for them there, and the muggle neighborhood was far beneath the notice of his pureblooded pursuers.

Preparing for apparition, Severus faced down his memories of the small bedroom where he'd cringed against the door for so long, listening. Fear would interfere with the magic, and trying to side-along with an unconscious partner would be difficult enough.

He couldn't shake the power of that moment, so close to the surface, but he could follow the thread of memory backwards. Closing his eyes, he tried to remember the feeling of satisfaction it had given him when he'd turned the passive anti-muggle charm into a ward strong enough to lock out his father. He'd slaved over it all term, and it was the first spell he'd created on his own. He'd thought it would protect him.

Clutching Regulus tightly to him, Severus closed his eyes and focused on that radiating sense of safety and pride. Only that, and not what came after. The magic shimmered over him, pulling Regulus along. When he opened his eyes, he'd come home.

Severus renewed the ward instinctively, then cast muffliato to keep sound locked inside. His arm was a searing agony. He'd ignored the summons for an hour and pain radiated along his nerves, but he couldn't go until he'd done what he could for Regulus.

He dragged Regulus to the bed and yanked at his shirt, already sure what he would see. A myriad of red lines crisscrossed the untorn cloth, bleeding together until the pattern was lost. Soaked cloth ripped away from shallow gashes, and a pulse of fresh blood flowed over his hands. Cursing, he drew his wand. He whispered the words over and over, a desperate prayer. iVulnera Sanentur/i, three times for each line of blood, as he passed his wand over each slashing line. The flow of blood slowed and the wounds knitted closed.

Fire shot through him and his hand spasmed with the power of the mark burning through him. His wand clattered to the ground, useless, and he fell to his knees, giving in to the pull of the summons. He could resist no longer.


	9. Chapter 9

When the world rematerialized, his master stood before him, face dark with fury. Severus fell to his knees, submitting, but the cruciatus curse bit into him before he reached the ground. He shook with its touch, his control ripped away as he bucked and jerked under his master's spell. Time stretched to infinity and his awareness narrowed.

The Dark Lord crouched down beside him, gripped his face, and pressed the wand against his temple. Severus shuddered at the fury in his eyes and tried to quiet his mind, but he was too weak from the hour-long burn of the mark on his flesh and the cruel touch of cruciatus. His defenses could not stand against his master's anger.

"Legilimens."

...He was huddled into his robe, threadbare and patched. He'd thought his sorting would make him belong, at last, but he would never live up to the lofty standards of his new prefect...

...He was desperate, pleading with the Headmaster to let him stay, but the forged signature had failed. He would be sent home, to face his father, and she would know he had lied to escape them. That faraway look would take her, as she pretended not to see...

"No, damn you." His master pushed aside the surface images, probing deeper, and Severus cried out. He'd grown stronger with practice, learning to direct his master's thoughts. But it had never been so brutal, and Severus couldn't protect himself. "Show me why."

...He was running, muscles burning as he strained against the dead weight, but he would not abandon Regulus...

"Regulus." His master hissed the name, seizing upon the image, and shoved. The Dark Lord broke through into the secret place where he'd locked away his most private thoughts and Severus was defenseless. A tear leaked from one eye, tracking down his cheek until it fell and was absorbed in darkness, and his memories were torn from him.

...He looked up at the outstretched hand of a black haired boy, the only one with an offer of kindness when all the others had turned aside...

... He studied underneath spreading branches, absently brushing away the steady fall of ash blossoms onto the pages of his book. The white petals came faster, like snow, and he looked up into the bright, laughing eyes of Regulus Black, precariously perched in the branches above...

...He ventured deeper into the forest, fearless on even the darkest night, because he was no longer alone...

...He watched the match from the highest tower, caring only for the green robed figure who darted back and forth through the clouds, chasing the ever elusive flash of gold...

...He reveled in the unaccustomed quiet of an empty dormitory, while the other seventh years wasted their energy on preening girls in overworked dresses. The bed curtains pushed aside to reveal a messy jumble of black hair and the flash of shadowed eyes the color of summer rain...

...His heart shattered, and he could draw no breath, as Regulus walked away, the word 'coward' ringing in his head...

Something rose up inside of him and Severus wrenched away, sobbing. He could endure no more. With a last desperate push, he ripped himself from his master's grasp. His mind tore to ribbons wherever it touched the invasive presence, and he fell into the blissful void of unconsciousness.

*/*

When he awoke, Severus lay where he had fallen. His head throbbed. After the violence of so many memories taken by force, the silence scraped against his nerves. He heard the soft whisper of movement and groped for his wand. Gone, fallen from senseless fingers before he'd succumbed to the summons. Severus narrowed his eyes, searching the room, and found his master watching him.

"My lord." It came out as a raw scratch, and he licked his lips before trying again. "Forgive me."

His master watched him silently, leaning up against the desk with his arms crossed in front of him. Severus searched his face but could read nothing in his expression. They were in his master's private study, with the bedroom just beyond the closed door, and the place where they'd watched the stars.

"I'm still yours." Severus swallowed, looking away. His master didn't move. "Please, my lord."

There was a long moment of silence, and then the rustling of cloth as his master crossed to him, bending to touch his neck. The touch was gentle, tender, and Severus fought down the instinct to pull away. He closed his eyes, feeling the room spin.

"Look at me."

Severus opened his eyes and the Dark Lord held out his hand, offering help with the same image he'd stolen of Regulus. Severus tasted bile and pushed the tainted memory away. His master smiled and took his hand, pulling him to his feet.

They were too close, the heat of his master's body too real, and Severus put a hand out to steady himself. He found the chair and collapsed into it, away from the Dark Lord. Those soft eyes watched him still.

His master bent down, one hand on each arm of the chair, and leaned into him. Severus trembled, but did not look away, and saw his master's satisfaction in that. A healing spell whispered over him, quieting the jangle of his nerves, but did nothing for the rawness of his misused mind.

When his master circled the desk, moving away, Severus managed an even breath. He shook inside as the Dark Lord considered him over long steepled fingers.

"When I chose you, I encouraged your rivalry with Lucius. I thought it would make you stronger." The handsome face was lined and tired, full of disappointment. Severus felt vaguely sick, trapped between the impulses of fear and loyalty. "I did not foresee your betrayal."

"I didn't mean to betray you, my lord. Only to protect him."

"Nevertheless, you have betrayed me."

Severus fell silent, hanging his head. He would accept it, for Regulus' sake.

"As has Lucius."

Severus glanced up, confused. His master nodded, as if he'd expected the reaction.

"His thoughts reveal the attack as one of revenge, with no consideration of my interests. And yours confirm your desperation." The Dark Lord sighed, a sound of pure frustration, and leaned back. In that one show of humanity, he was familiar to Severus. "My lieutenant and my advisor, with my youngest caught between you. What would you have me do?"

"You don't hold Regulus responsible?" The boldness of the question startled him, but this was what Severus most needed to know.

His master stood and came back around the desk, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. Severus flinched away, and the Dark Lord almost smiled, the corner of his mouth twitching. "I admit a certain fondness for those who come to my service so young. Perhaps more than is wise."

Hope bubbled up within him, fierce and frightening, and Severus could not keep the surprise from his face.

"For failing to heed my call, you are forgiven, as you believed it necessary to protect one of my own. You will retain your position, because you accepted your punishment willingly."

"My Lord, I..." His heart leapt. "I don't deserve your mercy. I..."

"However..." The voice held a note of warning, and Severus stilled at once. "You have twisted my magic to your own purposes, using my mark to save your lover."

Severus' cheeks flamed, and he dropped his gaze to the floor. It sickened him to hear the word from the lips of the Dark Lord. His master, though, continued without pause and this, more than anything, told Severus how little he understood of what he'd seen.

"For that, you will be held accountable. My trust must be regained. Go, before my mercy fades and see that you return before I come to regret my generosity. Lucius will only occupy me for so long."

Severus left quickly, afraid to think of anything but Regulus.

*/*

Regulus was still, but he'd passed from unconsciousness to sleep. His breathing was deep, if uneven, and he hadn't moved since Severus left him. He was safe.

Severus retrieved his wand, feeling calmer with it back in his possession. He traced the pattern of it idly while he studied Regulus, thinking. He needed to check for further injuries, but the slightest movement would wake Regulus. Severus made up his mind and murmured a sleep charm. It would mask the pain a while longer, while he worked.

The stains on Regulus' shirt had darkened to black. Beneath, blood dried into sticky curls on his chest, in slashing lines where the spell had cut him. Severus stooped closer to check, but all of the wounds were closed. It was too late for dittany, even if he'd had some. They would scar.

Malfoy hadn't spoken aloud, thank god, but the choice of that spell was deliberate. Anger boiled up in him, and he knew he'd never forgive himself. If he hadn't mended the wounds before he'd been pulled away, Regulus would have died here, alone in this room.

Severus touched his forehead, the only part of his face untouched, and pushed the hair back from his face. The tender lump of a bruise ran across one cheekbone, deceptively colorless, but it would darken to blueish black over the next few days. Severus knew a hundred ways to cover up the visible evidence, but he knew nothing that would ease the dull days-long ache of bruising.

He sighed, feeling helpless. Shrugging out of his robe, he searched the pockets for a clean handkerchief. Using aguamenti, he wet it and carefully pulled the filthy shirt off of Regulus, tossing it aside. Slowly, he washed away the blood, careful not to hurt Regulus with his touch.

He was smeared with blood too, he realized, and shuddered. When that too was fixed, he settled uncomfortably into a straight-backed wooden chair to wait, looking around the room uneasily. He could hear the sound of heavy footsteps through the paper-thin walls, but the muffling charm kept them from discovery. The scent of slowly crumbling plaster tickled his nostrils and he thought he could smell the stench of cigar smoke in the air. Severus rolled the wand back and forth across his thigh, watching the door. His muscles ached, and he leaned his head back against the hard wooden back, trying to relax. He was too big for the chair now, but he fit his tall frame into it as best he could. His long legs sprawled out in front of him, stretching across bare floorboards, and it was in this awkward position that exhaustion finally claimed him.


	10. Chapter 10

Severus awoke to the sound of pain. For a moment, he struggled to orient himself, and then came awake fully. His body was stiff from the awkward position. He groaned as he straightened, but his only concern was for Regulus. A soft, wet sound escaped as Regulus rolled over and his healing body protested the movement. The sleep spell had worn off, leaving him the troubled, restless slumber of any injured man.

Softly, so as not to wake him, Severus ran long fingers across his chest. Where before there had been a dozen bloody slashes, now there was only the faint crisscross of healing tissue. He traced the line of each newly forming scar, mapping his guilt onto Regulus' smooth, perfect skin.

"Severus." The sound of his name startled him, and he looked up into bright eyes full of amusement. He pulled away, embarrassed to have been caught in his weakness. But Regulus caught his hand and held it, and he could not bring himself to pull away from that touch too. "Don't go."

And so they stayed, joined only by the touch of a hand, though they were only inches apart. Severus could not meet his gaze, and so he studied the floor, thinking of potions and healing remedies and a thousand other things that were not the feel of fingertips against bare skin.

"Please?"

He couldn't ignore the whispered plea, though he had nothing to offer. He looked up, and the intensity in those in-between eyes terrified him. Regulus tugged on his hand, pulling him downward, and Severus found himself obeying without thought. His hands found the soft yielding of smooth skin, and he watched the path of his fingers. The moment seemed fragile and unreal, like a dream easily shattered, and he focused intently on his hands lest it break apart around him. Regulus was watching him still, and it was too much to bear. He couldn't meet those eyes which held so much in their depths. There was so much that he didn't comprehend, or could not admit.

Then came the feel of soft hands in his hair, and he was lost. He closed his eyes, and there was only sensation. Severus made no conscious decision to surrender, for in that moment he was incapable of it. He let go and abandoned himself to the feel of another's touch.

*/*

The sun eased its way past the horizon and the shadows reached for things they could never hold. Slowly shifting patterns draped them in darkness, hiding them from one another. Severus was motionless, caught in the moment between light and shadow. He longed for the light, desperate that this day would not end, and their time together fade into memory.

The last rays of sunlight slipped from their bodies, and Severus was left in shadow once more, where he belonged.

Only now did Severus dare to look at his companion. With the fall of night, he could cloak himself in deceptions once more, and escape the unraveling of his defenses.

He tensed his muscles to move away, but Regulus caught him. One arm tightening across his shoulders to keep him in place.

"Stay."

And with that single word, everything between them changed.

"We're not boys any longer. You don't have to be ashamed."

"I... I'm not ashamed. I..."

"Then don't go."

Fear stuttered in his heart, and he could not move, torn between a million contrary impulses.

He wanted to run. To retreat into the safety of his own thoughts, his comfortable routines and carefully formed mannerisms, where his sharp tongue and clever criticisms kept him safely apart.

But somewhere, deep within, he wanted to stay.

In the end, Regulus made the decision for him. One gentle hand traced across his cheek. His lips. Then moved to his neck, and pulled him into a kiss.

Soft lips touched his own, and it was more magical than anything he had ever known. Every charm that had tingled across his skin. The pull of apparition sweeping him to another place. The ripple of transformation as potions shaped him into something new. Everything paled beside the magic of that one gentle kiss.

*/*

Severus came awake to the sound of an opening door. He staggered across the room and wrenched Regulus away from the door, sending him reeling as he tried to catch his balance.

"What are you doing?"

"Finding something to eat."

Severus struggled to control himself, but adrenaline flooded his system.

"What's wrong?" Regulus stared, wide eyed. "What is this place?"

"Nothing. Nowhere." He was babbling, and it only increased the concern on Regulus' face. Severus could see the wariness return and the muscles tense in readiness. He kept his next words as calm and reasonable as he could manage, under the circumstances. "You're injured- you need to rest. Stay, and I'll find food."

Regulus wasn't a fool, but he let the lie stand. "Okay," he agreed, still curious. But nevertheless, he put his trust in Severus blindly, without explanation. The realization unnerved Severus as much as the house lying in wait.

Outside the doorway, Severus listened, but it was late and the house was silent. He heard only the sigh of an old house settling ever deeper into its decay. No sound came from the room down the hall, and Regulus was hidden behind silencing spells. He told himself that the faster he found what he needed, the faster he could return to his wards, and forced himself to move. He crept down the hall, stepping carefully over the floorboards that creaked.

When he reached the open doorway, he heard the rough sound of snoring, and forced himself to keep his movements slow and quiet. The rhythm did not vary, and only when he was safely past the danger did he speed up his movements, covering the last dozen meters to the kitchen twice as quickly as the rest of the journey.

Dim moonlight filtered through the cheap curtains, lighting the tiny kitchen enough to pick out the shadowed shape of the electric stove and weathered table, exactly the same. He shook the nervous tension from his shoulders and went in. He would take only what Regulus needed, and be gone.

Severus frowned, hesitating over the lone can of beef broth in the pantry, but it was necessary. The sight of Wizarding money would only bring punishment, and he had nothing else to leave for her. When he returned, he would convert his knuts to muggle money, and send it to her with an apology.

He heard the creak of a floorboard and whirled, his wand in his hand and a spell on his lips. His mother stood in the doorway, wraithlike in her ratty white bathrobe, and his hand fell uselessly to his side. She was bleary eyed, half asleep, and she gaped at him. Then she whispered, "Severus," and came to him, her tattered muggle slippers slapping against the floorboards.

She was so tiny, he thought, as she wrapped her arms around him, and he so unyielding. Her head came only to his shoulder, and he was monstrous. She clung tightly to him, murmuring inanities into the fabric of his cloak.

He moved away as soon as she released him. "Mother. I..." In the dimness, he caught the reflection of tears on her cheeks, and looked away. "I'm sorry."

She wiped her face with one hand, frowning fiercely. He said nothing when she took the soup from his hands and turned away. With crisp, efficient movements, she clicked on the stovetop and heated it through, putting it on a tray with a few pieces of bread. When she pulled two chipped porcelain cups out of the cabinet, he stopped her before she could reach for the tea tin. "Please don't." His hands covered hers completely and she went still at his touch. "I'll be gone in the morning."

She sagged, and he could feel her trembling. She didn't look at him when she spoke, turned away so he couldn't see her face. "You don't have to go."

"No, I..." There was a desperate plea in her voice, but he could never stay here. She knew that; she must.

"Things have changed. It would be all right now. Please, I just..." She seized his hand, clinging to it as her voice cracked. "I just want to see my son. Things have been better, since..."

"Since I left." Her words had stopped abruptly, but he knew what must logically follow. He'd never been willing to hide his skills, and he was a constant reminder of the magic that flowed in their veins. He endangered them both. "I can't stay. I'm sorry, but I... You know it would start again."

She nodded, pressing one closed fist against her mouth. He trailed off, not wanting to hurt her more than he already had. His mother shook off his hands and picked up the battered tin, fixing him with an iron gaze. "Let me fix you tea, before you go."

He sighed, and relented. A moment, then the air grew thick and steam softened her, the slightest curl to soften the hard angles of her face. As she leaned over the pot, the scent of tea came to him and memories drifted to him through the hanging vapor. He'd watched her so many times, memorizing her face as she leaned in over the pot, eyes closed, and breathed in the spiced air. She'd been beautiful to him then, plainness chased away by rapture, and in those moments he loved her fiercely.

Severus cleared his throat and turned away, the spicy scent of bergamot making his throat tighten.

He reached for an extra glass, and she hesitated, their ritual disturbed. "Is there someone with you?"

He kept his voice casual, filling it from the tap. "They're injured, and I needed a place to take them for a bit." He shrugged, as if there were nothing unusual about his actions. "We'll be gone before morning, I promise."

He could see the thin lines at the corners of her eyes as she frowned, knowing what it must have taken to drive him here. But she could do nothing to protect him. "Of course." She poured the tea into two cups, placing them decisively onto the tray. "Anything you need."

He stared at her, speechless, but she took the glass of tap water and stared back, daring him to argue. He cleared his throat, but found nothing to say. He took the tray and fled from the dim kitchen, past the open doorway, and back to the safety of his wards. He could picture her, standing frozen in the kitchen, alone.

The door locked tightly behind him, and he willed away the image, leaning against the closed door.

"This is your home, isn't it?"

When he opened his eyes, Regulus was studying him, sitting cross-legged on the bed with his hair poking out wildly in every direction.

He opened his mouth to deny it, but his throat closed on the lie. Instead, he went to him, offering nourishment where he could not offer truth. Regulus made room for him on the bed, and Severus joined him, made shy by the ease with which Regulus let him in. Their knees brushed against each other as they moved, the bed too small to accommodate two adults. Severus studied him as they ate, memorizing the sight of smooth lips against chipped porcelain. Steadying himself, he told Regulus what had occurred: his use of the mark, their flight, and the consequences that would await them. Haltingly, he told of the memories forced from him, and the bread turned stale in his mouth.

"But that's perfect!" Regulus exclaimed, scattering crumbs as he spoke.

Severus stared, dumbfounded.

"Don't you see? If the Dark Lord knows we're together, no one will suspect anything when we're alone."

"You don't care that they know?"

Regulus leaned in to kiss him, and the taste of tea was on his lips. "I don't care if the whole world knows I love you. Especially if it means they don't think we're plotting. Think about it. When Lucius and Narcissa sneak off together before a mission, does anyone think they're up to something? This is perfect!"

His enthusiasm was infectious, and Severus grinned back stupidly, though he'd heard nothing since that one word. Love. It was surely a slip of the tongue, as Regulus was caught up in the excitement of considering the new possibilities offered to them. Though it must be a mistake, it reverberated through his soul.

Severus was still reeling from the impact of that one innocent word when dawn approached. Together, they apparated away, and he gladly left that dismal, dusty bedroom behind him, where it belonged.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** A huge thank you to notwolf and muse35, who have been faithfully reviewing every chapter of Secret Carrier as they read, as well as to those who've commented along the way. Your feedback means so much to me. :D

Also, I will be going back to fix formatting on a few earlier chapters, now that I've figured out ffnet's quirks. My apologies if it means duplicate notifications to those who've subscribed, but it should be a one time thing.


	11. Chapter 11

His master's punishment was not long in coming. Before Regulus' bruises had faded from black to yellow, the Dark Lord called them both to him.

The Dark Lord spoke only to Regulus, as if Severus wasn't there. "You were caught up in this without intention, and so you will be spared the worst of my anger."

Regulus glanced over to him, his worry obvious, and Severus shook his head, the slightest of motions. His master was erratic, but submission would be safest for them both.

"However, it occurs to me. Severus may have divided your loyalty with his actions. Confused your priorities. That, I cannot allow."

Severus kept his eyes lowered. He didn't regret his choice, and he would endure the consequences.

"No, my lord," Regulus said.

Severus could hear his confusion. He knew precisely how Regulus must look as he tried to work out the right answer. His head would be cocked slightly to the right, eyes dilated, like he was solving a puzzle.

"My loyalty lies first with you."

Severus desperately wanted to look up, to see if his body said truth, or lie. But this was a test for them both, and he must not give them up.

"Words are very pretty, but I would have action." The Dark Lord's voice was smooth and seductive, like the snake that offered the apple.

"My lord?"

"Severus abused my power to save you. Do you see that?"

"I- Yes, my lord."

"I would see him punished."

"I don't understand."

But Severus did. He could remember the feel of the curse flowing through him to Malfoy, the conduit that joined him to master and victim. His stomach turned over and he felt like throwing up, imagining Regulus as that conduit, feeling his pain as it passed through him.

The Dark Lord laughed, a low throaty sound, and he could hear Regulus shift his weight back and forth, uneasy. "Severus does."

Severus lifted his head then, looking straight at Regulus. He could see fear in those grey green eyes, and in that one quick look he tried to tell him it was okay. Regulus would do what he had to, and Severus would forgive him.

"Or he thinks he does, in any case."

Startled, Severus shifted his eyes to his master. The Dark Lord was grinning at him: a leering jack-o-lantern sort of smile.

"I told you you'd have to pay for your betrayal."

Adrenaline flooded through him, the instinctive terror of the animal who sees death swooping down. His mouth went dry, and sweat prickled at his temple.

The Dark Lord turned back to face Regulus and Severus almost bolted. Only the knowledge that there was no escape held him frozen to the spot. Running wouldn't save him.

"You will carry out his punishment, since his crime was carried out on your behalf."

Regulus said something, but Severus didn't hear it over the sound of blood rushing in his ears. Every particle of his being was focused on the Dark Lord, who held the final card. He'd thought cruciatus, but he should have known it would never be that simple.

"Put your wand away, Regulus." His mind reeled for a moment, then seized on one horrific possibility. Severus squeezed his eyes shut, knowing what would come next. "I think we'll do this the muggle way, for variety."

There was a strangled noise, and Severus couldn't move. It took him half a second to realize the noise was coming from his own throat, and he choked off the sound.

Regulus was arguing, trying to make a reasonable plea for the use of magic, and Severus wanted to tell him to shut up. Every word he said made things worse. Severus locked eyes with his master's, and made no attempt to hide his hatred. That horrible smile was back, leering, as the Dark Lord took some twisted satisfaction in his hatred, and he understood the truth for the first time. The handsome face and boyish charm were the mask. _This _was his master's true face.

The Dark Lord had seen his nightmares, lived his memories. Severus was a fool. He'd shown him the darkness of his past, thinking to convince him of his motives, without realizing the weapon he'd handed over.

But his master had only the power of images, he told himself, he couldn't make him relive it. He was a grown man now, and no amount of staging and props could force him back.

When the first blow came, he didn't look at Regulus. Severus focused on the details, cataloguing all the ways in which this moment was different from those that had come before, listing them in his head.

He was taller now, nearly the same height as his attacker. Severus could have fought back, but this wasn't real and Regulus didn't want to hurt him.

Regulus was stronger. His athletic build held more power, but he didn't know where to hit. He didn't know how to cause the most damage and not leave evidence.

But the taste of blood was exactly the same.

Severus' lip split, and the metallic tang filled his mouth. He gagged, choking on the taste, and things began to blur together. He fell back, holding his hand up to protect his face and couldn't help the keening sound that escaped. Scrabbling backwards through the dust and the grime. The remembered reek of cigar smoke burned his lungs, and he couldn't breathe. The salt sting of tears, and he couldn't see. The finality of a wall at his back, and he couldn't escape. Nowhere to go. Nowhere to run.

The next blow never came.

Severus lay curled into a ball, gripping his knees and squeezing his eyes closed as tight as he could. He waited for it, resisting the temptation to look, knowing it would hurt more if he took it on the face.

"Please. No more." There was the sound of a sob and someone falling to their knees. "I... I can't."

The voice reoriented him, and Severus came back to himself.

Hair fell over his face as he looked up, and Severus didn't push it back, letting the limp strands hide him. Regulus was on his knees, clutching at the Dark Lord's robes. Trembling fingers gripped the dark cloth, twisting and pulling. His face was hidden against the cloth, and Severus couldn't see his expression.

The Dark Lord lifted his hand and Severus almost cried out. It wasn't to hit though, and his touch was gentle. One finger beneath Regulus' chin, the Dark Lord forced him to look up and Severus could see his face at last, damp and streaked with tears. Trails that caught the light when he moved.

"We have learned your lessons. Both of us." The Dark Lord let go, but Regulus stayed where he was, pleading. "Let it be enough. Please."

With one fingertip, their lord traced the silver track of Regulus' tears, along the edge of his bruised cheekbone down to where they had gathered, trembled, and then fallen away. He held it close, peering at the shining drop on his fingertip. Then he touched the fingertip to his lips, curious, and his delicate pink tongue flicked out to taste its saltiness.

Severus shuddered, putting his head back down to his knees, breathing deeply, but the Dark Lord must have relented. Regulus was there, touching him with hands gentle and insistent, and the Dark Lord was gone. Severus cringed at his touch, but Regulus was stubborn, pulling at him, his voice soft and gentle.

Severus struggled with him, clawing at his shirt for enough leverage to pull himself up, and then pushed him away.

"Severus, please, let me help-"

"No," he snapped, the word as sharp as the crack of apparition. "Leave me be."

He shoved Regulus, as hard as he could, and Regulus let go, finally. Severus headed for his potions lab, not looking back, but he could hear the hesitant footsteps on Malfoy's fine marble floors. His progress was torturous, sometimes stumbling, but if Regulus noticed, he did not comment. Severus ignored him, focusing only on the ground in front of him.

*/*

Regulus was still trailing after him when they reached his potions laboratory, but Severus refused to turn around. His only concession to Regulus' presence was to wait to set the wards until he was inside.

"Are you just going to pretend I'm not here?"

Severus went to the shelves and retrieved a silver bottle of murtlap essence. He poured a generous amount of it into a bowl, and took it to Regulus, banging it down onto the counter.

"I know you're here." Some of the liquid slopped over the edge of the bowl, spilling onto the countertop, but for once Severus left the mess alone. Some things should be messy, he thought.

Regulus stared at the murtlap, uncomprehendingly. "What's this?"

"Essence of murtlap. You should know that."

"For god's sake, Sev." Regulus made an irritated sound in his throat, like the grind of sandpaper, and looked up sharply. "This isn't a potions revision. Can you just tell me what you're doing?"

"Put your hand in it, idiot. It will help with the cuts on your knuckles."

Regulus made a strangled sound, somewhere between a cry of distress and a snort of laughter. "God, Severus. Don't take care of me after what I've done."

Severus ignored him, moving onto the next task. Regulus said nothing, but Severus could feel him watching. After a moment, Severus heard the soft splash of murtlap as he gave in, then a soft sigh of relief as the liquid immediately eased some of the sting in his hands. Severus allowed himself a tight smirk, feeling he'd won some minor battle, but it slipped away when Regulus cleared his throat, nervous.

"Why do you know all of this?"

Severus froze, his shoulders stiffening. "What do you mean?"

Regulus hesitated, reading the warning in his voice. But he had too much Black in him to abandon a course of action when he wanted something. "How do you know so much about treating it?"

His hands shook. A small tremor, the vibration so small that he doubted Regulus would see it. But the motion was obvious to Severus, and his mouth twisted into a grimace. He wiped his fingers on his cloak, clenched and unclenching his fist while the motion was hidden from Regulus. He couldn't let Regulus see.

When he reached for the bottle of watercress, his hands were steady. "I'm a potions master," he said, his voice perfectly casual and controlled. "Or would be if the Ministry weren't imbeciles. I know all their applications."

Silence, and he focused fully on the task at hand. With mortar and pestle, he bruised the watercress leaves, then mixed them with powdered hellebore and chicory. This recipe wasn't in any textbooks, but he doubted that Regulus would recognize that. When the paste was complete, Severus gave part of it to Regulus, not meeting his eyes.

"Rub this across your cheekbone. It will take a moment, but it will hide the bruising."

He turned his back to Regulus, putting the rest on his own bruises. They were tender, only the slight swell of raised flesh visible as of yet, but he could hide them before they became more obvious. Severus applied the mixture only to those areas that would be visible, ignoring the ones under his clothing. His long sleeves would hide those.

"It's still tender. Did I do something wrong?"

"No. You did it correctly." Severus went over to him, critically examining the spot. There was a slight line of darkness, where the purple of the bruise showed through, and he spread the paste down over it with practiced fingers. The smudge wavered, then slowly faded from view, leaving the appearance of smooth, unmarked skin. "It doesn't relieve the tenderness, only masks the visible evidence."

This close to him, Severus couldn't deny the knowledge in Regulus' eyes. It burned through him, compassion and pain. Understanding. Severus wrenched away from Regulus before he could see more. Regulus let him go, but the expression didn't fade away.

"Is there anything I can do for the sensation? You'd think with all those years of Quidditch, I'd be used to it, but I never seemed to get the worst of it." He laughed, a carefully casual sound that belied the look in his eyes, and Severus answered with the same constructed light tone.

"Only if it's treated right away. The potions interfere, so it's either mask the discoloration or mask the pain, not both. Once it goes far enough, you can only hide the coloring."

"I see."

"I... didn't have my supplies." Severus faced those cloudy green eyes, wanting to explain. "I would've taken away the pain if I could, but now it's too late."

Regulus reached for him and he flinched. Regulus saw it and stopped, watching Severus intently. His hand hung in midair, an unspoken accusation, and Severus couldn't stand the despair in his eyes. He looked down, forcing himself to hold still, and let Regulus touch him, tracing the now invisible swelling along his jaw line.

"Then why-?"

"I'm out of jobberknoll," he answered, blurting out the first ingredient that popped into his head. Severus backed away, putting back the things he'd used with quick, efficient movements. Jobberknoll didn't even make sense, something used for truth serums and forced recall. He cursed his carelessness, but Regulus either didn't catch it or didn't call him on the lie.


	12. Chapter 12

"My lord. I did not expect you."

His master's presence in his laboratory was an invasion, one that set Severus' teeth on edge. Though he'd been given the room as an insult, provided with a work room instead of a resting place, he felt most secure surrounded by his bottles and vials. The room was his now, the layers of dust conquered and the contents arranged according to Severus' exacting standards. If the transfigured cot was uncomfortable, it at least allowed him the security of making sure his workspace remained unmonitored and free of sabotage.

"I have a task for you."

The Dark Lord frowned, his eyes flicking around the room curiously. His gaze lingered for a moment on the meticulous shelves, each bottle carefully labeled and sorted by usage and volatility. Then he blinked, and focused on Severus instead. His nostrils flared slightly, and he crossed the distance between them with a few long strides.

Severus moved back half a step and the Dark Lord seized his shoulder, holding him still. His master drew a sharp fingernail along his jawline, where the worst of the bruises lay hidden. Severus flinched at the contact, betraying himself, and the corner of the Dark Lord's mouth lifted in a half smile. Satisfied, his master released him, and Severus jerked away from his touch.

"We have an opportunity, and I believe your skills may suit my purposes."

The dull ache of his jaw kept him sullen, and Severus didn't hide his resentment. Severus hadn't gone to him in the week since his punishment. "Whatever you wish, Master."

The Dark Lord smiled, stepping closer. Severus could smell him: the salt sweet tang of sweat and the reek of dark magic. His master leaned deliberately into him, enjoying his unease. Severus shuddered, and he could've sworn that an answering shiver went through his master's body. The Dark Lord separated a lock of his hair, wrapping it around his finger, and tugged, so that it pulled at his scalp. The unexpected gesture startled him, and tension sang through him. A slow, easy smile slithered into place, and Severus tried not to move.

"I hope you've learned your lesson, Severus." The Dark Lord toyed with the strand, then tucked it idly behind his ear. "You are mine, and I will not suffer your defiance."

They stared at each other, testing. The Dark Lord studied him, searching out and savoring his fear, but it wasn't enough. With a sudden movement, his master grabbed his left wrist and yanked back the sleeve. The mark was there, stark against the sickly color of yellowed skin, where the last vestiges of bruising remained, undeniable. The Dark Lord stroked the exposed skin of his arm, making the tattooed snake move under his touch, writhing through the bruised flesh. Severus tried to pull away, but the grip on his arm tightened. Deliberately, his master pressed down on the tender flesh, squeezing until Severus cried out involuntarily and stopped struggling.

"You belong to me. Never forget that."

"Yes, my lord." He gasped out the words, almost a sob. "Forgive me."

His master released him and he fell back, pulling his sleeve into place. The tender flesh of his forearm throbbed, sending echoes of pain up his arm, but Severus said nothing.

"Our sources at the Ministry have found an opportunity. Aurors have been assigned to guard a social event, in unusual numbers."

"A social event?"

"A wedding. Most of our enemies will be in attendance, and we have the chance to crush the Order in a single stroke."

Severus' interest was piqued, despite himself. A wedding didn't seem like much, but the presence of Aurors meant danger more than opportunity. The strength of the Order, backed up by the Ministry.

"An Auror guard would have any number of wards and protective spells in place. Are you certain the targets justify the risk?"

"Cowards have their uses, I see." The Dark Lord grinned at Severus with what he would have interpreted as fondness a month ago. Now it made Severus feel numb. "I was right to come to you."

"Caution is not cowardice, my lord."

"Lucius urges a frontal attack. Commit all of our forces and we will overwhelm them with our numbers."

"Malfoy has no eye for strategy."

"Indeed," he said, studying Severus. "But Lucius is correct; the prize is too tempting to let it slip by without an attempt. We will attack."

"What would you have me do?"

"Plan the mission." The Dark Lord patted him on the arm, like a dog who has performed a trick. Severus scowled, but said nothing. "Minimize the risks. You're well suited to caution, so use it to keep my servants alive."

"I can't create victory from a bloodbath." A direct attack on an entrenched enemy was inelegant and stupid. Someone would die and he would pay for their failure. "This is a mistake."

"Whatever consequences befall us, they will be the price of victory. Lay your plans and I'll consider any losses necessary. Refuse, and you'll pay for each loss in agony, for you might have prevented them."

Severus was trapped and his master knew it. "Very well."

"Excellent." His master turned away, losing interest.

"Wait. I need details to form a strategy."

The Dark Lord pulled a scroll from his pocket, holding it up for Severus to see. "This is what we have. Copied from Ministry files." He tossed the scroll to Severus, then disappeared from the doorway. His voice floated back, disembodied. "I trust you to find an approach."

Severus unrolled the scroll, smoothing out a generic looking form. It seemed innocuous: that most bureaucratic of formalities, a budget request. But filled out in precise tight handwriting were all the details Severus could ask for. Date, time, location, number of personnel requested for security. Severus rubbed his hand over his eyes, blocking out the words written there, and the parchment rolled shut as soon as he let go. _Security details for the nuptials of James Potter and Lily Evans_.

*/*

"Any luck?" Regulus picked up a crumpled scrap of parchment from the desk, and flattened it to peer at a scribbled diagram.

"You're not helping," Severus snapped, snatching it out of his hands. "It's impossible, and pestering me won't change that."

Regulus raised one eyebrow, an indulgent smile ghosting across his features and Severus glared back. Severus crumpled the paper into a ball, tossing it down to join a dozen others spread across the surface of Regulus' desk. With a growl, he swept his arm across the desk and knocked them all to the floor. All his rejected strategies sent tumbling into dusty corners, where they belonged.

Regulus placed a hand on his shoulder, leaning down to take the quill from him. Severus froze at the contact, but Regulus merely waited, leaving his hand where it was without acknowledging the response. When he let his muscles relax, Regulus squeezed once and leaned down to kiss him on the head.

"Relax. You have all the pieces, now give them time to fall into place." Instead of pulling away, Regulus ran his hand along the top of his shoulder, feeling the tightness there. With firm, practiced movements, Regulus pressed his thumbs straight down into the muscle, compressing and releasing, working along the line of his shoulder. "Close your eyes and relax. The answers will come."

Severus didn't believe him, but he'd been trying to come up with something all day. Regulus' hands were strong and gentle, and he'd spent hours hunched over his plans. Severus put the quill down and leaned back, letting Regulus work at the knot of muscles between his shoulder blades.

"The wedding's in two days. I'm running out of time."

Regulus started to hum softly, confident hands moving across the fabric of his shirt. Severus closed his eyes, trying to forget the looming deadline. He focused on the warmth of Regulus' hands and the slow stretch as his muscles relaxed. He didn't recognize the melody, but the vibration of Regulus' humming soothed him, and he let the lilting cadence of it wrap around him.

Severus let his hands fall to either side, shaking out the cramps and then letting them hang limply. He stretched his head to one side and Regulus smoothed his hand down the side of his neck, gentle pressure making the tension slide away.

"Start to work through the possibilities, but don't speak." Regulus tilted his head to the opposite side and repeated the process. Severus obediently focused on the problem. He reconsidered each possibility, letting Regulus' hands ease away his objections and reveal a solution.

First, the ceremony itself. She would be all in white, radiant beneath an August sky. All eyes would be on her. Perhaps that was an opportunity, as the bride provided her own form of distraction. But the chance would pass in an instant, and he had no guarantee the Aurors would be caught up in the spectacle.

There was the reception afterwards, with its accompanying flood of alcohol. Severus had no doubt that Black at least would drink heavily, and his readiness would suffer because of it. Several others as well, but there would be too many people. Even if the Aurors let their guard down and fell into the lure of comfort, it would be hard to keep track of so many at once.

Regulus tipped his head forward, pressing the heel of his hand down along either side of his spine. Severus drew a deep breath, looking for another option. The idea of letting alcohol lull them into a sense of security was a good one, but there were too many variables. He needed a moment where he had only the core group to consider. Severus understood Potter and his friends, but the inclusion of Aurors added too many unknowns. He needed to deal with what he knew.

"If you were getting married in two days," Severus asked, "what would you be doing right now?"

Regulus' hands stilled, and Severus leaned his head back against him. After a moment, Regulus moved down, resting his chin on Severus' shoulder and sliding his arms downwards. Severus could feel his chest rise and fall as he considered the question. When he chuckled, Severus could feel the vibration of it too, and the intimacy of it made him shiver.

"I'd have my betrothed on their back, stealing one last illicit fuck before marriage took all the fun out of it." Severus stiffened, whether at the coarseness of his words or the feel of them so close to his ear. "But if I were too uptight for that..."

Regulus turned his head, nipping him just beneath his ear. Severus yelped, jerking in surprise. Regulus tightened his arms and held him in place. Severus couldn't see his face, but he could feel the laughter as Regulus went on. "If I were a Gryffindor, for example. I'd be getting pissed at some pub with my mates, mourning the loss of my all important freedom." Regulus nuzzled against him, kissing the place where he'd bitten him.

Severus groaned as Regulus pushed his collar out of the way, mouth wet and hot against his skin. He was losing his grasp on the conversation, but something niggled at the back of his mind, keeping him from turning to Regulus. There was something important here, and he tried to focus. Regulus slid his hand down to cup him through the fabric of his trousers, and he lost the thread for an instant. Then his eyes snapped open, and Severus realized what Regulus had just said. "You're a genius." Regulus palmed his cock, squeezing, and heat flooded through him. "No, I- Bloody hell, let me think for a minute."

Regulus was laughing now, but he eased off, leaving the weight of his hand there as a promise. "For a minute."

"You're right. Potter's probably holed up with the rest of them, drinking himself stupid. Or he will be tomorrow night, anyway."

"A stag party? Probably so."

"Well, you don't think they'd be as careful for that part, would they?"

"Not likely."

"Exactly. They'll be too drunk to duel properly, and there will be fewer to deal with.

"And the Aurors?"

Severus grinned, feeling quite satisfied with his logic. "If there are any, they'll be off duty and likely as pissed as the rest of them."

"Severus?"

"Yes?"

"You're brilliant." Regulus' hand closed around him, stroking down his length. Severus groaned, leaning back against him. "And Severus?"

"Hmmm?"

"Your minute is up."


	13. Chapter 13

After all his planning, their advantage was almost lost to an idiot with a weak bladder. The intruder snuck away from the lights of the party and stepped into the alley to relieve himself, right into the mass of waiting Death Eaters.

"Bloody hell."

Senara was closest, and she raised her wand by instinct, as startled as Pettigrew.

"No!" Severus called out, alarmed. He had to stop her, but she was too far. If she triggered the magic detection charm, their enemies would be on them in an instant.

Rabastan threw himself in front of Senara, barreling into Pettigrew at top speed. He hit the bricks hard, knocking the smaller wizard into the wall, and they went down in a tumble of limbs and cloak. Senara's hand wavered, as Rabastan blocked her shot. Then awareness seemed to catch up with instinct, and her face went pale. She stared at the piece of wood in her hand, then deliberately tucked it back inside her cloak.

Pettigrew had lost his wand in the initial hit, but he was up again, scrambling madly for his weapon. Then Regulus stood before him, blocking his path. Regulus swung, and his fist caught Pettigrew square across the jaw. He dropped, as silent as if he'd been hit by a stunning spell.

For a moment, the Death Eaters stood frozen, staring wide-eyed at each other. Then Rabastan let out a nervous bark of laughter and muttered, "Nice one, Reg." And the spell was broken.

Senara cleared her throat awkwardly, looking embarrassed, and Rabastan gave her a grin. He nudged Pettigrew's limp body with the side of his boot, making sure the mousy little wizard was unconscious. The body tipped face first into the scattered rubbish of the alleyway.

"Tie him up," Severus said. He pulled a length of rope from his pocket, and gave it to Dolohov, who stood closest. The older Death Eater gave him an annoyed look, and passed the rope to Senara instead. She bent to bind the Gryffindor.

"You're too merciful with our enemies," Dolohov said to him, while the rest were focused on the prisoner. He kept his voice low, so the others wouldn't overhear. "We should kill him."

"Killing without magic is messy." Severus had to be careful with Dolohov, who missed nothing. "He's not worth the noise."

A movement caught his eye, distracting Severus. Malfoy was coming, drawn by the scent of conflict. Severus frowned, watching as Malfoy stepped over Pettigrew, eyes fixed on the pair of them.

"Detection charms be damned. We should attack." Dolohov glanced over his shoulder, to see what held his attention. When he saw Malfoy, he pulled Severus closer, saying the last under his breath. "Death Eaters are not suited for skulking outside muggle pubs. Your strategies fail to account for your people."

Dolohov turned his attention to Malfoy with a diplomat's smile, at once welcoming and noncommittal. Severus' frown deepened. He didn't understand Dolohov. The older Death Eater avoided political maneuvering yet held their lord's favor. He was ruthless, but he relied on his intellect as much as his wand. A dangerous opponent, but more intriguing to Severus than most. He'd learned Dolohov's assessments were usually right.

"Your plan has failed," Malfoy stated loudly, looking disgusted. They'd given each other distance since Regulus, but Malfoy would never miss a chance to put Severus in his place.

"My plan will work." Severus crossed his arms over his chest, and scowled back. This was his mission, and Malfoy didn't understand them like he did.

Dolohov cleared his throat, shifting his weight forward. The small movement shifted their face-off into a triangle, and Malfoy adjusted automatically. "When they realize he's missing, won't they come looking?" Dolohov asked, looking at Severus.

"You've failed," Malfoy hissed. "Admit it."

Severus ignored him, addressing the senior Death Eater as if Malfoy hadn't spoken.

"They won't notice." He turned his back on them both, watching the pathetic figure by the trash bin, bound and helpless. "They never have."

*/*

It was time.

Mad-Eye's personal flask had run dry and he'd gone rather than risk an outside source. Black had grown clumsy, spilling beer all over the barmaid. She'd stamped off, angry and damp, and Black was moping over the mess. Potter had enough, and abandoned Black to his sodden self pity. This pleased Severus most of all. Together, the two of them were formidable, with their instinctive knowledge of each other. Divided, they would fall easily.

Severus signaled Dolohov, who gave him a half salute with his wand and headed around the side of the pub. The elder Death Eater picked his way across the wet cobblestones, a dramatic contrast to Bellatrix's eager dance. Dolohov would lead wisely, with no unnecessary risks, but more importantly, he could keep the more dangerous Death Eaters in line. Severus had given him Malfoy, along with a handful of others he didn't want by his side.

"Good hunting," he said, to the empty air.

Now he had only a few minutes to wait while they got in position. Severus stooped over Pettigrew, passing the time with one final dig at his enemy.

Pettigrew was conscious, but his cowardice kept him docile. Sweat trickled down his hairline in a steady stream, and his face was ashen. When Severus leaned closer, he shrunk back in fear. But Severus remembered his raucous laughter at far too many humiliations to have any sympathy for Peter Pettigrew. He'd been at their side, even if he'd been too afraid to hold the wand.

"An hour, and no one's noticed. Do you see?" Pettigrew's eyes flashed with hatred, but there was something else there too. "Not important enough to kill, not important enough to miss. And you won't tell them what happened, because you'd have to admit you failed."

Pettigrew made a sound, muffled by the gag, and thrashed to get at him. Severus allowed himself a mocking smile, twisting the rope so the bonds bit into his wrists. Pettigrew struggled, but gave up the fight when Severus ratcheted the rope tighter.

Severus pulled the concealing mask down over his face and stood up. His soldiers were waiting for him.

He nudged Pettigrew with the toe of his boot, looking down at him through the slitted eyes of his mask. Pettigrew's whole body was limp with fear. Severus grinned, and his last words hissed through the mask, distorted and metallic.

"You mean nothing to us. Or to them."

*/*

Concussion shook the building, showering them with a drifting snow of dirt and loosened particles. At his nod, Senara unlocked the front door with a quiet Alohomora. With Dolohov's group attack drawing the enemy backwards, to where he'd blown off the back side of the pub, their group entered unnoticed.

"Petrificus Totalus!" Senara screamed out, and Longbottom's legs snapped together. He clipped the edge of the table as he fell. Glass shattered. Beer splattered over him and flowed outwards, forming a yeasty-smelling moat around the soaked form. The only remaining Auror, irrelevant, before the moment of surprise was lost.

The Lestrange brothers split off to the left, red light spitting from their wands as they ran. One of the stunning spells caught Lupin, half risen from his chair, and the wolf was down too.

Crabbe and Goyle were standing exposed in the doorway. "Go right!" he screamed, and the sound jarred them into motion. They lumbered after Rosier, ducking behind the long length of bar just in time. Black's spell whizzed a centimeter over Goyle's thick skull, shattering the line of bottles in an explosion of curved glass and colorful labels. Liquor cascaded down and the stink of alcohol flooded the room, a harsh miasma that reached him instantly.

Eyes tearing from the assault, Severus struggled to see. Regulus was shoving at a massive table, and Severus threw his weight at it too. They tipped it onto its side and took shelter behind it. Regulus grinned at him, a flash of startling whiteness in the gloom, and Severus grinned back. The fight had begun in earnest now, but they had strategic positions, with the enemy pinned down between them. Severus could hear the other group, and Bellatrix's delighted screech said the battle was going well.

"James!"

Black screamed the word out without turning, keeping his attention on the enemies in front of him. He was hunched behind a table with an older wizard, who was dragging the limp form of the wolf backwards as Black's stream of spells gave him cover. There was no answer and Black looked away for a second, to a darkened doorway on the side farthest from Dolohov's group. Rosier took advantage of his distraction, and a vicious spell thudded into the wood right next to his head. The wood splintered, sharp daggers of wood flying like shrapnel, and a vivid line of red appeared across Black's cheek.

"James!" Black bellowed again. "Get your bony arse back up here."

There was an answering yell and Potter came barreling out from the hallway, wand in hand. Black threw up a shield charm to protect his advance, but Potter fell back, taking cover close to the doorway instead of joining his other half. For an instant, Severus was as confused as Black by this, but then he saw a familiar flame of red hair around the doorframe and understood.

"Bloody hell." Exasperation and amusement warred in Black's expression. "Why is she here?"

Potter shrugged back, unapologetic. "Your company sucks. That's why I'm getting married in the first place." The older wizard snorted, amused, and Black fired off a particularly nasty curse, grumbling to himself.

"This is all very touching, but can we please get on with it?" Rabastan drawled out the words, sounding bored, as his brother threw up a hasty shield charm to absorb the spell he got for his troubles.

Most of the Death Eaters laughed at that, and it seemed to enrage their targets, who sent a barrage of light careening across the room toward them.

Lily wasn't drunk like the others, and her spells were quick and efficient, but the Death Eaters had the advantage. Senara's suppression spell kept Lily from calling for reinforcements or apparating, but it wasn't enough. Lily fought more creatively than the rest, and the bright flare of her magic stood out against the crimson of stunning spells which stained the air around them.

"Incarcerous!" she screamed. And Crabbe's hulking shape went down in a squirming mass of creeping rope. Goyle tried to free him, casting Diffindo in uncontrolled arcs that made Senara squeal as she dodged his wild shots. Potter took advantage of the chaos, catching Goyle in a corona of red light, and the big Death Eater crashed to the floor.

Regulus elbowed him hard in the ribs, jarring Severus out of his observations. "Stop staring and fight!"

The room's back wall dissolved in a massive explosion and heat blew over them. With the barrier between them removed, the individual cells of fighting collided. Everything was chaos as the second group of Order members poured in, both reinforcement and distraction.

But the Death Eaters were right behind them, and there was nowhere to go. The wolf was conscious again, and held a quick exchange with two of the newcomers. Severus strained to hear, but the words were lost in the cacophony of battle. Three wands pointed to the side of the pub, where a long row of windows looked out over the empty street. As one, they screamed out "Reducto!" Their combined power blew out the entire wall, and the glass dissolved, a thousand deadly slivers exploding out into the night.

Everyone ducked instinctively, caught in a moment of shocked silence.

"Go!"

Longbottom was free now, and his shout made Severus jump. Some of the enemy turned back to provide covering magic, while the rest began to pour through the wall, escaping into the night. Bellatrix screamed out her frustration, seeing her prey in flight.

"Avada Kedavra!" Green flashed from Dolohov's wand, wreathing one of the defenders in emerald light. He dropped instantly, in silence, but then Severus saw him lunge at Dolohov somehow, a banshee's cry of anguish on his lips. Malfoy's voice broke in and the dead man's doppleganger fell dead too. Twins, Severus realized, as he processed the sight.

Regulus tugged at his sleeve and they were running. They were in the street now, and he could hear muggle sirens in the distance, growing closer. The Order was escaping, men disappearing into the village like rats scurrying for cover, but the Death Eaters were close on their tails, splitting off to run down their prey. Severus stayed with Regulus, and he could see Black just ahead. They whipped around a corner, Black only a few steps ahead.

Severus hit him with an impediment spell and he stumbled, caught dead center. The wand went flying, clattering across the cobblestones and they had him, trapped.

Black whirled to face them, crouched low and staring.

"You gonna kill me, little brother?" Black's voice was sour and nasty. He made no attempt to call for help.

Regulus summoned his brother's wand, and faced his brother. When he pushed back the mask, his face was ashen. But he pointed his wand just the same.

"I don't have a choice."

"Liar!" Black spat out. "You made your choice when you sold your soul."

"Do it," Severus hissed. Alive, Black was a threat to them both. Death would be so much simpler. "Let him go, and they'll find out you helped him."

But Regulus' hand was shaking, the tip of the wand already dipping away from its target.

Before Severus could finish it himself, two more figures tore around the corner. Potter threw himself at Regulus, headlong, and they went down together.

"Expelliarmus!" Severus screamed out the spell as he saw Lily's wand and it went flying. She skidded, and he grabbed at her, catching her arm and pulling her up tight against him.

Black threw himself into the fray, grabbing the nearest flailing body, and together he and Potter struggled with Regulus. All three were panting heavily, but Potter ended on top, sitting on Regulus' chest with a vague look of triumph. He pressed the tip of his wand into Regulus' chest and Regulus went still.

"Stop!"

She was so close he could smell her. Apple blossoms and strawberries, the same shampoo she'd used since she was seven. He pressed the tip of his wand into her neck and she gasped. "Move and I'll kill her."

Potter eased the tension on his own wand as he tried to decide what to do. They had the advantage, but he had Lily.

"Severus?"

Bright green eyes searched his, looking for something familiar. She knew him, despite the mask, despite the covering hood. She would always know him.

"Shut up," he hissed. He gripped the wand tighter, the point of it jabbing into freckled skin. Severus forced her around to face them, wrenching her arms behind her back so she couldn't look at him.

No one moved.

The pop of apparition came from the street beyond and Regulus groaned. The cavalry was arriving.

He wrenched her arms tighter and she gave out a tiny gasp of pain. He relaxed his grip, and he could feel her chest heave. "Let him up." One hand kept her hands caught, so small against him. He wrapped the other around her, his hand against the delicate skin of her throat. The cast of his skin was so strange against the soft ivory, specked with freckles, like cream dusted with cinnamon. "Release him now, or I take her with me."

He could hear the stamp of feet approaching, but Severus didn't move. They didn't have anti-apparition spells in place yet. He could hear reinforcements arriving, and the spells took time to cast. They couldn't stop him.

"All right."

It was Potter who spoke, his eyes fixed on Lily's throat, staring at Severus' hand. But Black moved aside, following Potter's lead. Regulus shoved Potter off, grabbing his wand back from his brother and came to join him. He looked away for an instant, checking on Regulus. When he nodded, Severus released her, pushing Lily away from him as he apparated.


	14. Chapter 14

Without Malfoy, they couldn't apparate directly through the Manor wards, so they had a long trek in from the apparition point. Plenty of time for Regulus to say thank you - he'd saved him from capture, after all - but apparently that was too much to ask.

Severus glanced over at him, but Regulus was stomping along, swinging his arms with too much force and kicking at the grass.

"What's your problem?"

"What's _my_ problem?" Regulus cast him a dirty look, as if he was the one who'd been an idiot. "You've got to be kidding me."

Severus knitted his brows together. What did Regulus have to be upset about? Regulus was the one who'd nearly gotten them killed, by not taking care of his brother when he had the chance.

"I don't know what you think just happened. But you're wrong." If he hadn't been there, Regulus would probably be on his way to Azkaban by now. His precious brother wouldn't have spared him a backwards glance.

"You're the one who-"

Senara apparated in near them, and Regulus clamped his mouth shut. She was excited, crackling with adrenaline, but it didn't take her long to pick up on the tension that vibrated between them. When Severus snapped at her for the second time, she gave up and caught up with Rabastan instead.

By the time they reached the main building, Severus was fuming. He'd used Lily to save him, and the ungrateful wretch was acting like he'd done something wrong.

When he pushed open the front doors and saw Malfoy, it was all he could do not to groan aloud. Malfoy was frowning and concerned, tattling to the Dark Lord. When he turned to Severus, his smugness was plain.

"I see our noble leader has returned."

"What do you want, Malfoy?" he snapped.

Malfoy looked affronted, and Severus gritted his teeth. He didn't have the patience for Malfoy right now.

"Our lord was awaiting a report, and I was the first to arrive."

"Of course you were."

Dolohov shot him a warning look, and Severus forced himself to reign in his temper. He couldn't afford to let Malfoy use his irritation to turn the tables. Whatever was going on with Regulus would have to wait. Severus focused on his master. His opinion was the one that mattered.

Whatever Malfoy had told the Dark Lord, Severus had no doubt it made Malfoy look good, and damned him in the process. His master's expression held a distinct look of dissatisfaction.

"My Lord." Severus swept by Malfoy, falling to his knees at the Dark Lord's feet. He didn't like the yielding of the gesture any more than Malfoy, but he was smart enough to know when it was the best move. Their master would always prefer submission to Malfoy's facade.

"Severus." The Dark Lord touched his head, fingers cording through the strands absently. Severus kept his expression carefully neutral, looking up into his master's brown eyes. "I would have your report."

"The mission went according to plan, my lord." Malfoy cleared his throat, looking annoyed. Severus went on before he could interrupt. "We eliminated two Order members, and did so while avoiding the capture or loss of any of our people."

One finely sculpted eyebrow went up, considering him.

"Lucius tells a somewhat different version of events."

Severus didn't look away from his master's eyes. He'd been told to keep their attack from turning into a bloodbath, and he'd done precisely that. Malfoy couldn't twist that.

"I don't doubt that, my Lord. Malfoy's view is always somewhat... influenced by his own position."

"You did nothing," Malfoy said. His face was made ugly by the emotions that crossed it. "I'm the one who cast the killing curse."

"You and Dolohov, yes." He nodded to Dolohov, and the elder Death Eater returned the gesture. Severus could feel Dolohov focus on his every move, always watching. "The Dark Lord ordered me to control the risks and create a strategy that would ensure we didn't all die in the attack. Not to take the glory for myself."

"But you had your chance for glory, Snape." Malfoy's eyes were slitted, calculating. "How is it you return empty-handed?"

Severus stared back, face blank as he replayed the mission in his head, searching for the trap. He couldn't mean Pettigrew, such a useless wizard meant nothing to their plans.

"Lucius tells me you had the blood traitor, Black, within your grasp."

Regulus drew a startled breath and all eyes turned to him. He'd gone pale, his eyes shifting sideways to Severus. Their eyes met and Severus cursed inwardly. It was as obvious as if Regulus had announced his guilt.

Severus showed nothing, keeping his expression cold. Whatever Malfoy knew, Regulus would injure their case far more with his lack of control.

"Forgive me, my Lord." Regulus swallowed nervously, his adam's apple bobbing up and down with the movement. He set his shoulders and stepped past Malfoy to face the Dark Lord. "It shames me to hear one of my own family called by such a name, but I can't deny it."

The Dark Lord reached out to touch Regulus' face, tilting his head up to study him. Severus didn't budge. If their master saw his weakness, Regulus would suffer.

But whatever the Dark Lord read in his face, the touch of his hand did not turn violent. "Your family has proven itself loyal, Regulus. Do not be afraid."

His master's fingers traced down Regulus' face, touching the side of his neck, then the hollow of his throat. "My lord?"

The Dark Lord opened his hand, until his strong fingers were wrapped around Regulus' neck. He kept his grip loose, but the gesture made Severus' breath catch in his throat. "We will wipe out the stain against your honor. Your brother's treason will not be allowed to stand."

Severus could see the effort it cost Regulus to remain motionless. His throat moved under the Dark Lord's hand, struggling to swallow. Regulus' hands convulsed at his sides.

Had she been afraid of him? Severus tried to remember and felt the flutter of her pulse beneath his hands. She'd been so soft and vulnerable.

"Severus."

The sound of his name startled him, but the Dark Lord let go of Regulus, turning to face him instead.

"I await your explanation."

What did Malfoy know? He couldn't be caught in a lie, but he would not reveal Regulus to them. Severus tried to marshall his thoughts, but Regulus broke in as he opened his mouth to answer.

"He saved me."

The simple statement shocked him, and Severus closed his mouth. Whatever Regulus was planning, Severus had no choice but to trust him.

"We had Sirius cornered and disarmed, it's true. But then more Order members showed up, and we found ourselves outnumbered."

"Who?" The Dark Lord was listening, but his eyes were focused on Severus, expectant.

"James Potter and Lily Evans, my lord," Severus said. The most plain of facts, and surely that wouldn't contradict Regulus.

"Severus kept his head, managing to take Evans hostage. But Sirius took my wand in the struggle." Regulus looked over at Severus, and this time his expression was obvious, a showman's performance of gratitude. "Severus kept me alive by trading her for me."

"And why did you disarm her, rather than killing her?" Malfoy's accusation was sharp, and Severus saw the Dark Lord nod slightly. "You could have killed her easily."

"Disarming her was the simplest solution, and there was still Potter to deal with." The explanation sounded lame, even to his own ears. But what else could he say? He hadn't had time to think about it. He'd only reacted.

"If he'd killed her, I would have been dead in an instant." Regulus answered for him.

Severus agreed automatically, but he couldn't shake the specter of what he'd said. Of course Potter would've taken his revenge, why hadn't he thought of that? They had Regulus down and at their mercy, and he wouldn't have been able to do anything.

"The mission was over. We could hear the Aurors arriving and we had only minutes before the apparition wards went up." The conviction in his voice didn't waver as Regulus faced the Dark Lord. "Severus promised you he'd do everything in his power to keep us alive and free, and he kept his word."

But he hadn't thought of that, hadn't realized how precariously Regulus' life had been balanced. He hadn't known the truth of it then, but his instincts had been true. He could never hurt her.

Regulus' explanation satisfied their master, and they were dismissed. Severus trailed after him automatically, numbed by the thought that had just gone through him. If he'd faced Lily as Regulus had faced his brother, he would have been no more able to cast the spell.

*/*

When the door shut behind them, Severus felt giddy with the release of tension. To be beyond prying eyes at last was a relief. He wanted nothing more than to be alone with Regulus.

"At last."

Regulus went over to the dresser, putting his wand down. The mask went next to it, to keep it from rolling, and its hollow eyes stared blankly at Severus like the empty sockets of a skull. Regulus bent down and peered at his reflection, rubbing his hands over his face and scratching his nails down over the stubble at his neck and jaw. Severus waited, but it took a long time for Regulus to meet his eyes in the mirror.

"What?" Regulus said finally, rolling his eyes.

"I'm glad that's over, is all."

Regulus grimaced, not answering.

Still mad, obviously. Was it what he'd said earlier?

"I didn't think, I'm sorry." He was an idiot. He should've known Regulus wouldn't be able to kill his brother. "I should've covered for you as soon as-."

"Covered for _me_?"

Regulus whirled to face him. His face was so distorted with anger that Severus clamped his mouth shut and took an involuntary step back.

"I'm the one who defended you to the Dark Lord!" Regulus said. "Don't you dare talk to me about covering things up."

"But..." Severus studied him for some clue, trying to understand, but Regulus was closed to him. He had both arms crossed over his chest and his shoulders were hunched defensively. "You said I saved you."

"Don't pretend you did it for my sake," Regulus said, low and dangerous. "I saw the way you touched her."

"I didn't do anything wrong. She was a way to free you, that's all." But he remembered how she'd fit so easily against him, the smell of her hair. His hands had been so rough against her smooth skin.

Regulus shoved him, both hands against his chest. His head banged against the wall, physically jarring him from the memory.

"Stop it," Regulus hissed. "You're imagining her against you right now."

"I'm not."

"Don't lie to me."

Regulus was pressed up against him, all strong lines and muscle. They were face to face, inches apart, and Severus could see the shadow of stubble tracing across his jaw. Regulus pushed into him, demanding, and there was only heat and pressure, Regulus' body hard against his own.

"Even in the pub, she was all you could see. You lost yourself when she was in your arms."

Severus couldn't deny it. Lily would always have power over him, he knew that. But he didn't want her. Not the way he wanted Regulus.

"They had a wand to my heart." Regulus' hands curled into fists on his chest. He started to pull away, but Severus hung onto him, gripping his shoulders to keep him in place. "My own brother took my wand, but all I could see was the way you looked at her."

The bleakness in his eyes was too much, his voice hopeless. Severus covered his mouth with his own, to stop the flow of words. Regulus tried to pull away and Severus grabbed the back of his neck, pulling Regulus hard against him. Severus growled, holding him in place, and kissed along the side of his neck. The world narrowed to the salt taste of sweat on his tongue and the maddening scratch of stubble against his lips. Severus fumbled at his shirt buttons, desperate for the heat of his skin.

Regulus cursed. They broke apart, both of them gasping, and stared at each other. Regulus' face was flushed, eyes dilated. Severus could see the shine of wetness where he'd tasted him, and he began to feel foolish, but then Regulus was kissing him. He was insistent, biting at his lip when he resisted, and Severus groaned, opening his mouth. The taste of him was like strong spice, heady and dangerous.

"Tell me I'm the one you want." Regulus growled the words, an animal sound of possession that made Severus ache. "Tell me you want me."

"I want you." He pressed himself against Regulus, letting him feel the weight of his cock, hard and aching. The friction made them both gasp, but Severus spoke clearly, fighting the dizzying rush of sensation to make sure Regulus understood. "Only you."


	15. Chapter 15

A few weeks later, Severus spied a small package, out of place against his work table. His eyes flicked up to Regulus, then back to the package, carefully wrapped in emerald green paper and flashing silver ribbon. He licked his lips, concentrating, but could think of no reason for celebration.

"Open it."

Regulus leaned against the doorframe, watching. He was relaxed, but there was a tightness to his eyes that bespoke anxiety.

Severus picked up the package, examining the elegant linen tag tied to the ribbon. It said only "To Severus," in neat, elegant letters that had become as familiar to him as his own handwriting.

"What's the occasion?"

"I can't give you something without a reason?" A smile played across his face, lifting the corners of his mouth, and Severus felt himself warm in response. Severus shot him an annoyed look, and Regulus laughed, relenting. "Fine. I think I'm close. So it's to celebrate our progress."

That got his attention, and Severus looked up, worried. He'd suspected Regulus was up to something, ever since Malfoy's attack, but he hadn't asked, and Regulus hadn't volunteered. That was safer for both of them. For him to speak of it now, made the danger more real.

"Close to what?" Severus asked.

"I don't know yet. The Dark Lord needs something done, and Bella suggested me." Regulus looked away, dark lashes hiding his eyes. "Whatever it is, he's protecting it desperately, and I want to know what he's hiding."

"Regulus, please." Severus paused, fear making the words stick in his throat. His insides twisted at the thought of what the Dark Lord might require from Regulus. "Be careful."

"I can take care of myself."

But he shouldn't have too. Severus should be in his place. But he'd seen the Dark Lord's true face, and he couldn't give him adoration anymore. His master had grown bored with him, and so it fell to Regulus.

"Stop." The word was sharp, and when Severus looked up, Regulus' expression had gone dark. "Whatever you're thinking, don't."

Regulus sighed and pushed himself off the doorframe, crossing to him. He touched Severus' face but said nothing, then took his hand. Deliberately, he centered the package in Severus' palm and closed his fingers around the ribbon. "Just open it, please."

Obediently, Severus pulled on the ribbon bow and it slid smoothly from the box. He ran one finger along the seam of paper so that the weak fastening spell gave easily, and the bright paper fell free in his hands. The black box inside was not sealed, and he lifted the lid to find a silver ball. He glanced up at Regulus, but found no explanation in his satisfied smile.

The silver ball fit easily in his hand, and Severus could feel the thrum of magic against his skin as he cupped it in his palm. Its metallic surface was etched with delicate curving designs. The abstract loops and whorls curved gently against each other, undulating in slow waves like the flow of water or caress of air. It warmed at his touch, vibrating in response to his attention, but he saw no pattern in the restless design. It was lightweight, as if it was only a hollow shell, and he stared in wonder. Obviously magical, but he'd never seen such an object, and wasn't sure of its purpose.

"It's a secret carrier," came the answer, soft and quiet.

"I've heard of secret carriers, but I've never seen one." They were exceedingly rare, and he wondered how Regulus had managed to obtain one. If it had come from the Black family vaults. "They only open in response to a specific memory, correct?"

"Yes." Regulus' face lit up with satisfaction, as he enjoyed Severus' obvious fascination. "No other magic can trigger them, so any secrets hidden inside are safe from everyone else." He blushed, and added, "I hope you like it."

"It's wonderful," Snape answered immediately. Though the words came quickly, they were not an automatic politeness. He didn't deserve such a gesture. "How do I set the memory?"

"I, um..." Regulus stammered, and his cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. "It was keyed to me, a long time ago. So to, uh, give it as a present, I had to set it to a shared memory. I couldn't figure out another way to make it work."

"So we can both use the same memory to open it?" Regulus nodded, apologetic, and Severus put an arm around him, eyes fixed on the silver ball. He didn't share his secrets easily, but Regulus wouldn't trigger the device without permission. "What memory is it?"

"For it to be a good lock, it has to be something no one else would know, yet a moment vivid and significant enough to stay crisp in your memory, so the power of the seal doesn't weaken with forgetfulness." Regulus blushed, but his eyes flashed with mischief. "I set it with the memory of our first kiss."

Now it was Snape's turn to blush, and Regulus laughed in response. "I was sure you wouldn't have told anyone, so it seemed a good choice."

"Thank you."

Regulus beamed, happiness lighting up his face. He leaned in, taking his time as he brushed smooth lips against brow, nose, and cheek. Severus turned to him, stretching out the moment as their lips met at last. Regulus teased him, keeping the kiss light, until Severus could stand it no longer. He demanded more, growling deep in his throat, and Regulus gave him what he wanted.

After a long weighted moment, Regulus pulled back. His face was flushed, for a different reason this time. He smiled, and it was a promise of things to come. "You're welcome." And he left Severus to his secrets, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Alone, Severus considered the silver ball. He thought of that night, a few years earlier, under the shadow of trees where the Forbidden Forest crept up to the very edge of the lake. The etchings quickened in response as the patterns moved closer together, condensing in a broad band that circled around the equator of the ball. But the memory wasn't yet precise enough to unlock the secret carrier. Severus concentrated, remembering the night they'd kissed, imagining every detail. The band grew ever tighter, flowing faster and faster in its revolutions, as he focused on the sensations of that night. Severus closed his eyes, remembering the patterns of moonlight across the darkened lawn, the reflection of stars on the smooth surface of the lake.

They'd found everything he needed for tomorrow's lesson, supplementing his meager potions supplies with ingredients gathered from the forest. Though Regulus had no need of them, he came along for the companionship, as he had so many times before. Severus didn't understand what drew him, but he was grateful and didn't question it.

But that night was different.

As he stepped onto the moonlit grounds, back to the hulking castle, Regulus caught his hand and pulled him back into the shadowed safety of the forest's edge. Startled, he stared around for some sign of danger, but there was only his friend, watching him intently with an expression he didn't understand. When he opened his mouth to ask, the younger boy stilled his questions with his mouth. Severus had no idea what he was doing, and knew he'd be pushed away in an instant, as his friend recovered from whatever madness had possessed him. But Regulus didn't recover. And Severus found he had no desire to push him away.

Severus held onto him with a confusion he'd never felt before. Though he knew it was madness, his clumsy hands clung to this beautiful boy. The feel of Regulus' lips, Regulus' tongue swept over him in a rush. He didn't know what he wanted, knew he shouldn't want. Yet, nevertheless, he did want.

Severus remembered the desperate joy, the rush of desire, and the frantic hammer of his pulse, and the secret carrier responded. It throbbed hot against his palm, and he opened his eyes to see a flash of silver light. The etchings wound tight into a single thin circle, then flared briefly with magic, and the seal was broken. The ball split smoothly along the seal, and two perfect halves fell into his palm, revealing a hollow interior that would mold itself to hide any small object.

Severus aligned the two halves together, and the secret carrier instantly sealed. The etchings rushed across its surface, quickly covering the line where the two halves joined and settling into their slow, amorphous design once more. He slipped the object in his pocket, where it would wait until he decided upon a secret worthy of its magical protection. Still empty, it was too light to detect the pull of its weight upon his robes, yet he could feel the tiny shape awaiting a purpose, and its presence would be a constant reminder of the man who had given it to him.

*/*

"Come in, my dear Severus."

The Dark Lord gestured expansively, waving him to a seat. Severus hesitated on the threshold, but had no choice. He obeyed, settling into an overstuffed chair. His master watched him over the rim of his mug, sipping quietly at his tea, and Severus tried not to fidget.

A tea tray was set on the low table, and the scent of black tea leaves rose between them. When Severus didn't reach for the kettle immediately, the Dark Lord raised one eyebrow, expectant.

"Do help yourself." His eyes were narrowed and intent, though his tone was light. "You are my guest here, after all."

Veritaserum, Severus thought. But he brewed the potions here, and he was not so great a fool as to do so without being prepared. His antidote would work.

"Of course, my lord." Severus took the brew, pouring himself a steaming cup of the stuff. The potion was undetectable under the strong flavor of tea and bergamot, but his master's thin smile of satisfaction confirmed his guess.

They sipped their tea in silence, no doubt while the Dark Lord waited for the potion to take effect. They were in his master's private study, but the door to the bedroom was closed. Severus closed his eyes, cataloguing the complex flavors and aromas of the familiar tea, and tried not to remember.

"What are you thinking?"

His eyes snapped open, and he found his master's eyes watching him hungrily. He shivered, but he was supposed to be under the influence of truth serum. Severus let his eyes unfocus, staring absently through the rising steam as he took another slow sip, careful not to drink the loose leaves of his tea.

"Wondering if I'm always to be relegated to your study now."

The Dark Lord leaned forward, and it took everything Severus had to stay relaxed, oblivious.

"Would you return to my favor, Severus?"

"I..." Severus knit his brows together, an obvious show of frustration, but didn't raise his eyes from the mug. "I'm not worthy of it, my lord. My skills are of some use to you, and it's all I deserve."

"You have a talent for subtlety, which I find sorely lacking in most of my servants." His master considered him thoughtfully, as if trying to categorize him. "You're quite a different breed from most of my Death Eaters, it seems."

"So Malfoy believes, though he doesn't consider it such an asset." The bitterness was sharp, souring the taste of Earl Grey, and Severus set down the cup abruptly. The Dark Lord had seen enough of his memories to expect such bitterness, and he wouldn't disappoint him.

"You speak of your parentage?"

"Yes, my lord." Severus dropped his eyes, letting shame and embarrassment play across his face. "My apologies for bringing up such an unpleasant topic."

"In such a case, it's the witch who is deserving of punishment, not the result." Severus trembled at the mention of his mother, but the Dark Lord continued without pause. "To have the blessing of wizard blood, yet to waste it in unnatural union with an animal. It's blasphemous."

Severus could think of nothing safe to say in reply. God knows, he would never understand why his mother had married such a brute. But he would hardly have expected the Dark Lord, killer of muggles and terror of mudbloods, to be so forgiving. He struggled to find his next words, wanting desperately to turn the conversation away from his mother, yet unable to do so without revealing himself. "I'm honored, my lord, that you don't hold such a grievous error against me."

"Most would never rise above such blasphemy. It's the usual failing of the half-blood to fall to the basest level of their muggle blood." The Dark Lord swirled his own drink slowly in his cup, watching the shifting pattern of it as he spoke. "Few manage to overcome that taint to embrace their wizard blood and seize power."

"I don't understand."

"A letter has arrived for you, Severus. We are presented with an opportunity."

The Dark Lord pulled a piece of parchment from his cloak and passed it to him. With shaking hands, Severus unfolded the paper, skipping straight to the signature: _Horace Slughorn_.

"It would seem Dumbledore is in need of a potions professor." The Dark Lord's smile was radiant, and Severus found himself smiling back, caught up in his satisfaction. His master darted out his hand, closing around Severus' hand. Severus jumped, startled, and would have dropped the cup if the Dark Lord had not trapped it in his grasp.

The Dark Lord forced his hand around in a circle, then upended the cup in the saucer. Severus relaxed slightly, recognizing the ritual of tasseography from the many wasted hours of divination class. His master released him and let the cup drain. "Perhaps we should let him have you."

The Dark Lord was watching him intently, frank curiosity in his gaze. His future sat upended between them, waiting for his master to determine.

"Do your gifts extend to prophecy, Severus?"

Severus' eyes flicked down to the upside down cup, its pronouncement hidden beneath curving porcelain. Whatever his fate, he didn't want to know.

"I don't believe in fortune telling."

The Dark Lord laughed. "Then go, and I will see your future for myself."

Severus fled, before his master could turn the cup over.


	16. Chapter 16

Severus had folded and unfolded the letter so many times that the creases were beginning to wear through, the quill marks becoming illegible. But it didn't matter. Repetition had burned the words into his memory until he could fill in the blanks with ease.

_Mr. Severus Snape,_

_It is with a heavy heart that I write to tell you of my upcoming retirement. Though I shall continue to contribute to the craft of potion-making through research, personal considerations have made my decision a necessity at this time. I know that you, as one of my prized pupils, will be greatly saddened by this announcement, but I urge you, do not despair. My wisdom lives on in the minds of my students, and it is for this reason I write to you._

_A suitable replacement has taken my duties as professor for the current term, but the arrangement is temporary, until a more permanent solution can be arranged. As a responsible professor, I have, of course, taken an interest in the selection of my replacement, and have spent many hours discussing candidates with the headmaster. I have spoken at length of your skills and knowledge, and of your unusual capacity for potions development. I believe your addition to the Hogwarts staff would prove beneficial, both to the school and to you personally, as the vast resources at your disposal would surely lead to some of the greatest potion advances in recent memory. For this reason, I have arranged for your name to be included on the short list for preferred consideration._

_Should you be interested in the position of professor and resident potion master at Hogwarts, an interview has been arranged for you. Please find enclosed the details from the Headmaster._

_I must confess, you are my first choice as a successor. You are the most talented potions student I have had the pleasure to teach in my years as a professor, and are sure to become the youngest potions master England has ever seen. Your talents are without parallel._

_However, I ask you to consider this position for a more personal reason. With my retirement, I leave not only the position of professor, but also Slytherin's head of house. In these troubled times, I fear for the future of the next generation of Slytherins. Amongst the more excitable voices of your peers, you are a voice of reason, and yet you have always remained true to the noble ideals of our house. The years since I was first sorted have brought many challenges for our house, and I fear our fate remains yet undecided. The next generation will require a clever mind to help them navigate whatever turbulent times are to come._

_As your former professor, and, I hope, as your friend, I ask you to remember this duty when you consider the professorship. I have recommended several former students that I believe could admirably serve as potions professor, yet I can think of no one else who would be so well suited to lead Slytherin house in the years to come. I ask only that you carefully consider the possibilities of such a choice, as you do all such decisions, and I am confident you will come to the best decision._

_Sincerely,_

_Horace Slughorn_

_Professor of Potions_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

Severus scowled, tucking the letter back into his breast pocket. He would make a horrible professor; he had no delusions about that. But Slughorn had reminded him there was more at stake than his own future. When he considered all the possible futures that might unfold in the aftermath of this war, he found he couldn't dismiss the idea as easily as he'd thought.

Pulling his robes tighter around him, he huddled under the eaves of a ramshackle building, watching the door of the Hog's Head through the drizzling mist. It felt strange to walk openly, as himself, after so long hidden behind masks and closed doors. Here, he was only Severus Snape, newly graduated and seeking employment. Habit made him wary of everyone who passed, their amorphous shapes looming out of the mist, but he expected no trouble. The headmaster could defend himself, and Severus didn't flatter himself important enough to be worthy of Auror, or Order, attention.

After five minutes passed without any sign of ambush or deception, he cautiously approached the building. He kept his hand on his wand, though he kept it hidden in his cloak, undrawn. He crossed the threshold without incident, and found the place unchanged. Rain streaked the windows, and the floor was muddied with the slush tramped in from outside. The unkempt barman didn't look up as he entered, though Severus knew he was aware of everyone who passed through his doors. A hag sat morosely at a table in the corner, staring blankly at the empty bottle before her.

The only other customer sat before the hearth, face shrouded by a heavy cloak despite the heat of the fire. It was this inconsistency that drew his attention, but he didn't pay the figure much notice until they rose to leave. For a moment they turned in his direction, and Severus caught a flash of pale skin and bright red hair before they disappeared into the back corridors of the inn.

After a moment, he ambled after the cloaked figure, yet when he reached the hallway, they lingered at the other end, waiting for him. They paused, before disappearing around a corner, and continued in this manner until they unlocked a door, leaving it ajar, and went inside. By this time, Severus knew he was being led deliberately, but he wasn't sure why. He sensed no threat from them, and his curiosity had gotten the best of him. Besides, there was that tantalizing flash of red, which drew him on despite his paranoia.

Severus stepped quietly inside and pulled the door closed behind him. Without turning to face him, the cloaked figure raised one small hand to the hood of their garment and pushed it slowly back to reveal a blaze of brightly colored hair.

"Lily?"

She turned to face him, and there was a smile on her lips. "I prayed you would come." She came to him, and embraced him. She smelled still of apples, though he reminded himself she was now the wife of another man. He felt strong and powerful with the feel of her slender, more delicate frame against his own, and he was amazed by how she always managed to make him feel different than he was.

But this endangered them both, as she'd always been a danger to him. He grasped her arms and held her away from him, so he couldn't smell the scent of her hair.

"What are you doing here?" He scowled fiercely, but she only smiled, as if she'd somehow missed his prickly hostility. Severus didn't smile back, irritated by an enigma he'd never been able to solve.

"When Sluggy sent me that letter, I knew he had to have sent one to you first." She shrugged simply, the details of no concern to her. "I wasn't sure if you'd come, but I had to take the chance. There was no other way for me to safely contact you."

"But..." He stared dumbly at her, at a loss for words. This was a stupid risk, and Lily was not a stupid girl. "Why would you want to see me?"

"Because, Severus, I know there's hope for you." Her eyes shone with an optimism he could never fathom. After everything he'd done, how could she still have faith in him?

"Why would you think that?" She knew what he'd become, had accused him of it when it was far from what he wanted. "I've done nothing to give you reason-"

"Because I know you," she said simply, cutting off his protests. "You're a good man. Despite everything that has happened."

"No, I-"

"You're still the one whose instincts jump to the disarming charm, even in the heat of battle." She was ferocious, daring him to deny it, and he looked away. So that was how she'd known him. "You're still the one to focus on strategy and restraint, while others would stubbornly fight to the end."

"That doesn't mean I'm a good man." He was sullen then, refusing to meet her eyes.

"Maybe, maybe not," she admitted. "But you're not evil."

He said nothing.

"I can't believe you would condone their atrocities." He glanced at her again, to find her frowning. She caught one corner of her lip between her teeth, worrying at it, as when she was absorbed in a complicated school assignment, and he would've smiled, in another time. "I know you've joined them, that somehow you've convinced yourself it was the right thing to do. But it's a mistake. You're not like them."

Her voice rang out with conviction, and she balled her fists at her side. She glared at him, almost angry, as if she dared him to argue.

"Perhaps not entirely." He could not quite manage a smile, so shaken was he by her unfounded faith in him, but he couldn't deny her either. No matter his defenses, she'd always seen right through him. "But whatever else I might be, I'm most certainly not a hero. I could never find my place on your side, either. So what would you have me do?"

It was a rhetorical question, for there could be no easy solution now, yet she answered him anyway.

"Join us. Join the Order."

His mouth dropped open, and he gaped at her. "It's not that simple. I can't just change my mind." The Order would kill him on principle, surely. Or send him to Azkaban. Though that would be a mercy compared to what his master would do to him. The Dark Lord would rip him to shreds, both in mind and in body, and then leave what was left for Malfoy's amusement. He and Regulus would be hunted through the streets like animals and left screaming for death in the end. "You don't walk away from them, like dropping an elective."

"Then help us." She reached out a hand to him, taking his hand in her own. "You've too keen a mind to not be involved in the planning by this point. Do what you can to turn them from the worst of it, and send us word of what can't be avoided. We'll do what we can to minimize the damage without revealing you."

Her skin was warm against his own, but it couldn't keep the chill from his soul. This was madness. He already used his influence to tamp the Dark Lord's fury, yes. With Regulus, he'd grown bolder, exploiting weaknesses wherever he could find them. But she asked for more than that.

"James thinks I'm imagining it. But I saw the way you fought." Her eyes were the color of purest jade, deep and cool. He was trapped in them. "You weren't trying to kill, you were focused on keeping them alive."

Her hand tightened on his own, but she dipped her head and he almost didn't catch her last words. "Keeping him alive."

His throat burned. He wanted to deny her, but he realized suddenly that she was right. Somewhere along the way, it had stopped being as simple as protecting himself. But could he trust someone else, when both of their lives were held in the balance? No. It was too great a risk.

"No, I..." He struggled for the words, overwhelmed by the sheer scope of what she asked. "It's too dangerous. I..."

She released his hand then, and moved away. He fell silent, having disappointed her once more. "It's okay." Her voice was tired, and he could see sadness in the slump of her shoulders. "I know it's asking a lot."

His back straightened at the sound of her pity, and he crossed his arms, keeping a hold of the edges of his robe as he did so, so that it folded around him in a cocoon. He cut her off before she could continue in her misapprehension. "I'm not a child in need of rescue, Lily. I don't need your help, or your sympathy."

At the icy sound of his words, she looked up, startled. "No, Severus, I..." Her eyes widened as she took in his stiff posture and severe frown. "I know that, I... I'm not trying to rescue you or anything. I just... I know you're not evil. No matter what anyone else says."

"Regardless. The situation can't be changed now, and you'll only get yourself killed trying to do something about it." His anger faltered then, as he pictured her lying lifeless and discarded on the battlefield, red hair dull next to the brightness of the blood in which she lay. His pride sustained him then, stubbornness steadying him when emotion could not. "I suggest you keep to your own, before your interference leads to disaster."

Her face reddened and tears sprang to her startled green eyes, as if he'd slapped her.

"You say I'm not an evil man. But I assure you, I'm no Gryffindor either. There's no room for me on the side of the lions." She was the one who'd turned away. Chosen another. She'd thrown away years of friendship for one afternoon's mistake, a single word spoken in anger. He would not relent. "Go, before you get us both killed."

The first tears slipped down her face, and, even in his cruelty, a part of him longed to wipe them away, as he'd done so long ago for that weeping girl on the playground. "Damn you, Severus." She furiously swiped at her tears with one hand, then curled it quickly back into a clenched fist. Her words were low and bitter, but rose higher with each word, a crescendo of scarcely contained anger. "Damn you, with your stubbornness, and your stupid pride." She turned on her heel, and fled, slamming the door behind her, and he was alone.


	17. Chapter 17

Severus tried not to fidget as Albus Dumbledore thumbed through the documents before him. Ministry notification of his examination scores, school records, and a testimonial from Slughorn, each verified with their own seal. He had the skills of a potions master, even if he lacked the final certificate.

The Headmaster lifted his head, finally. "I must say I'm hesitant to consider you, Mr. Snape, despite your qualifications." He pushed the scrolls aside, and his lenses reflected back half moons, hiding his expression.

Severus tried not to grit his teeth. Outside, the grey sky crowded close to the windows, clouds pressing in.

"Your... commitments, shall we say, hardly recommend you as a professor."

"I admit I'm an unusual choice," Severus said, shifting in his seat. "And I don't deny the position would have difficulties for me, as well. But those obligations are why I'm right for the position."

"Indeed? I'm curious how exactly you've reached that conclusion."

"Whatever the outcome, this war will not last forever." Severus inhaled deeply, then exhaled, releasing his doubt. He had to convince this grandfatherly old man, who watched him as serenely as if they shared tea and crumpets, rather than decided his future while the sky outside began to weep. "If your side loses, the students need someone to mitigate the damage. To see that the most extreme beliefs of the conquerors are not forced on those too young to have a voice."

"And you would be this voice?" Dumbledore asked.

"I... I would try." Severus slumped, but kept going. "Even within their beliefs, there is room for interpretation. I would steer the school to the most moderate view possible, and do what I could to protect them."

Dumbledore pursed his lips, frowning. "It hardly sounds like you would be their champion."

"To be frank, if your side loses, there will be few left to try. I would not be displaced by such a sudden reversal of power, and would be one of the few who could make the attempt."

"An interesting point, Mr. Snape," the Headmaster said. "You show more insight than I would have expected." A gust of wind rattled the building, spattering rain against the windowpane and making them both jump. They both stared out at the slanting rain, where the storm ruled.

"Then you admit the possibility?" Severus asked. The horizon was a uniform grey now, and he couldn't make out the sky beyond.

"The possibility, yes. But such dark times will not come to pass. Your master will be defeated."

"Even then," Severus said, "I would want the position."

For the first time, Dumbledore seemed genuinely surprised. First confusion, then anger, flashed in his eyes, though the emotions never reached his face. "I will not shield you from the consequences of your actions."

"I don't want your protection, Headmaster."

"Then what?"

"If your side is victorious, the victors will need scapegoats. With the true villains dead in battle, or empty husks from the dementor's kiss, it would be all too easy to turn their anger against the house that produced so many of the enemy. To see its students shunned and persecuted."

"And you think you could prevent such an outcome?"

"I would see Slytherin remain proud, and help to rebuild it," he said simply.

"And when you too are punished for your crimes?"

"Then I would use my position to make my voice heard first. If the next generation is to avoid our mistakes, they must learn from them. Too many have been led astray by vanity and greed. I would show them the magnitude of their mistake."

"You would accept your fate, when the time came?"

Would he be strong enough to face the dementor without fear? He shuddered, imagining it, and hung his head, looking away from Dumbledore's sharp gaze.

"I can't deny my guilt," Severus said at last. "If I could at least make them see the human face of their enemy before I die, then I would serve some small purpose."

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Outside, the worst of the storm was beginning to blow itself out, but the rain continued. Severus closed his eyes as the rain beat down, relentless.

"The scales haven't yet tipped one way or the other, Mr. Snape. There is yet time for us to play our parts."

His eyes snapped open and went to the Headmaster. Dumbledore had his back turned to Severus, staring out into the rain. He was an old man, hunched against the dismal sky, but his voice was firm.

"You seem uniquely positioned to play a key role in this, I believe. And I do foresee many of the possibilities you've described."

The Headmaster turned back to him to face him, mouth set into a thin line. "Yet, for the time being, you are a threat to my students. I cannot condone such a choice lightly. You will have to wait for your answer."

"I understand." Severus bent to grab his potions kit. He swept his arm across the table, knocking the assorted scrolls back into the bag, to cover the vials he'd vainly thought to show as further proof of his skills. Wasted effort.

"Mr. Snape?"

Severus snapped the bag shut, not answering.

"One final question."

He sighed, but stood waiting. "What is it, Headmaster?"

"What have you told your master, that he would allow such a curious proposition? What does Voldemort expect?"

Severus felt his skin crawl, and shuddered at the name.

"Forgive me." Dumbledore was peering at him with fascination, like a spell that had yielded unexpected results. "I would not have guessed his followers would be susceptible to the same peculiar paranoia as the rest of the wizarding world."

"Who better to understand what the Dark Lord is capable of?" He smiled, trying to make light of his reaction, but guessed by Dumbledore's expression it had not been convincing. He gave up and went on. "I've told my master that I could influence the next generation and determine how many of them turn to him in the years to come."

Dumbledore snorted, laughing. "I see you've mastered the art of using the truth to tell a lie."

"My master cannot be lied to directly, but when provided with truths, he fills in the blanks with what he wants to hear. In that, at least, the Dark Lord is no different than the rest of us."

"You've given me much to think on, Mr. Snape." The headmaster held out his hand in the muggle fashion, and Severus took it. They shook hands, and there was more strength in his grip than Severus would've expected.

"Thank you, Headmaster, for at least considering me as a candidate."

"Regardless of my decision, it has been a pleasure to speak with you. Most interesting, and for that, I thank you."

Dumbledore's smile was genuine, and Severus allowed himself to hope. He left, leaving the old man to stare out into the rain, studying the storm and planning for what lay beyond.

*/*

Severus grimaced, imagining hordes of snot-faced first years staring up at him. What was he thinking? He had no patience for stupidity and disinterest. The students would despise him, as much as he despised them. Class after class, year after year: each day would be an endless procession of bad essays and botched potions.

But could he leave them to their fate if the Dark Lord won? Children were horrid little monsters, but surely there would be a few like himself. If his master came to power, what would become of the halfbloods and mudbloods? He couldn't watch them suffer and die, knowing he would share their fate except for the mark on his arm.

Severus stopped on the staircase, considering his prospects. He _had_ to get the position, everything depended upon it. But there would be dozens of applicants far better suited to the education of children than he was. It was wartime, and others would flock to Hogwarts, believing that Dumbledore could protect them.

Severus tightened his grip on the banister, stuck in a moment of indecision. Then he reversed his course and started back up the stairs. He had to know who he was up against.

When he reached the upstairs hallway, Severus could hear the murmur of voices from inside the room where he'd talked with the headmaster. He'd been right; Dumbledore had scheduled other interviews as well. Severus crept to the closed door and listened, a silent shadow in the darkened corridor.

At first, he couldn't hear anything. The sound through the cracks was muffled and indistinct. He could tell only that the second voice belonged to a woman. Ethereal and airy, her speech was hard to understand, and he pressed himself up against the door to hear better.

Dumbledore's voice was easier to understand though, and with a rush of disappointment he made out the words divination and seer. Another position then, and a useless one at that.

Severus frowned, losing interest, and was about to move away when something inside the room changed utterly. The unseen woman's voice dropped an octave, losing its affectation in an instant. A chill washed over Severus as the stranger's voice boomed out, emotionless and undeniable. The words came clearly, the harsh, unnatural sound of prophecy. Severus pressed himself up against the closed door, trying to hear every word.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches." A thrill went through Severus at the mention of his master. He didn't believe in prophecy, but if it were true it could change everything. "Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies."

A hand closed on his collar, and he was yanked from his position. Severus was thrown across the hall, to rebound off the wall and fall to his knees. There was more to the prophecy - he could hear it droning on, steady as a metronome - but he couldn't make out the words.

It was the barman from downstairs, oddly, and he seized Severus, filthy hands grabbing at his lapel to drag him who knows where. Whatever the rest of the prophecy, it was lost to him.


	18. Chapter 18

When Severus returned to the Three Broomsticks, Regulus was waiting for him.

"How did it go?" Regulus patted the bed next to him, full of questions. Yet even as he asked, he was already pouring Severus a glass of champagne.

"The interview itself... about as well as I could have hoped." He took the glass and pulled a chair next to the bed so he could face Regulus. "But there were unexpected complications."

Reading his troubled state of mind, Regulus grew serious as well. He set his own glass down on the bedside table, already empty, and scooted closer to Severus. "What happened?"

Before speaking, Severus pulled his wand from his robes and reinforced the privacy spells on the room with several spells of his own. Only once he was sure they couldn't be spied on did he continue. "First, a surprise meeting with Lily."

Regulus' nose wrinkled in distaste. "Hasn't she complicated things enough?"

Severus scowled, but he restrained himself to an annoyed grunt. He'd chosen Regulus, but he couldn't explain why Lily meant so much. He didn't quite understand it himself.

"She's Potter's now. You do realize that, don't you?" Regulus watched him carefully as he said it, pouring himself another glass.

Severus ground his teeth, biting back a harsh retort. He refused to give in to anger when he had so much to tell him. Regulus would forget his jealousy when he heard about the prophecy. So he ground out the word, "Yes," and left it at that.

Regulus leaned back against the wall, stretching his legs out across the bed, and took another swig of champagne. His face was flushed pink, and Severus wondered how much he'd had already. They glowered at each other, but eventually Regulus' curiosity got the best of him. With a long-suffering sigh, he acquiesced, asking, "And what did your precious Lily want from you this time?"

"She asked me to join the Order."

"She what?" Regulus started, spilling the rest of his drink. Cursing, he vanished the mess, and dabbed at the remaining wet spot. Snape wisely restrained himself from comment, and waited until Regulus was sufficiently recovered to explain.

"She asked me to join the Order of the Phoenix. When I declined, she asked me to pass them information."

"And what did you tell her?"

Regulus didn't seem to think the idea as shocking as he had. He didn't laugh at the outlandishness of the idea, or scoff at her audacity. His normal energy was subdued as he watched Severus, waiting for an answer.

"I... I told her not to contact me, and to mind her own business." He wasn't used to such seriousness from Regulus, and it unnerved him. "What did you think I'd say?"

"I know you wouldn't leave me, but... We're already working against him in our own way. And you can never say no to her." He looked away then, the faintest hint of color on his cheeks. "So I didn't know, really."

Severus could say nothing. He hadn't meant to...

Severus put the champagne down, moving onto the bed beside him. When Regulus refused to meet his eyes, Severus settled for kissing the top of his head. His hair was soft and silken, smelling of woodsmoke and musk, and Severus closed his eyes, holding Regulus against him. "It's not like that. I..." He was glad Regulus couldn't see him now. The words were too hard. "I'm sorry I didn't try to explain before. When... Well, when it came up before. She doesn't mean anything to me."

Regulus snorted his disbelief, and Severus quickly rephrased himself. "I mean, she does. But not like that. It's just..." He blew out a frustrated breath, failing to find the words. It had gone unspoken for so long, and he wanted to keep it secret still. But Regulus deserved to know. "You know she's muggleborn."

Regulus shifted to look at him, sensing his struggle. Severus leaned in close, resting against his shoulder to avoid his eyes. "It was the same muggle village where I grew up. She lived down the road, and we discovered our powers together. I was the one who understood what was happening, but she was the one who realized it was magic." Regulus stilled his hand, and only then did he realize he was pulling at a loose thread on the blanket, unraveling the wool in a long, kinked strand. "God, that sounds stupid. I mean that, to her, it was a wonderful, mysterious thing. For me, it was something to be kept hidden, to be studied in secret."

"Because of your parents, you mean?" Regulus' voice was soft and gentle, yet it seemed harsh in his ears.

"Yes." His throat, already dry, closed tightly around the word, and he cleared it uncomfortably before continuing. "That's why we're connected. I don't like her that way. I mean, I kind of thought I did when we were young, because she was the only thing in my life that was happy. But, I... I don't like girls, and I... She's different, somehow."

Regulus squeezed his hand tightly, and he gave up trying to explain. Instead, he closed his eyes and rested against the rough black material of Regulus' cloak. His breathing was ragged and uneven, and with sudden alarm, he swiped at his eyes, but found them blessedly dry.

"She understands who you are, in a way none of the rest of us can." There was no jealousy in his tone this time, only understanding, and, at last, acceptance. Severus nodded, relieved. "Because she's the only one you can talk to about them."

"No, I... We've never talked about it. I couldn't... This, with you, is the only time I've tried to explain." He let the words tumble out. They came out in a rush, and it was too late to think about what he was saying. "That's just it, I think. With Lily, I don't have to say it, ever, because she's seen for herself. She knows already. Don't you see? I have to trust her. She has all my secrets, whether I want her to or not. But she's never told them to anyone. Though she must hate me now, for what I've become, she's never said a word."

He needed air, and he drew in a great, gasping breath. Now he thought his face might really be wet - he could feel the tears burning down his cheeks in tiny tracks - and he pulled away before Regulus could see, drawing his legs up onto the bed and putting his head down as he locked his arms around his knees.

Regulus let him hide his shame, but his presence never wavered. First, as a warmth and a weight next to him, and then, as one hesitant hand on his back. They stayed like that a long time, unspeaking, while Severus locked his defenses back into place. When he'd finally steadied his breathing, Regulus softly asked, "This is the first time you've spoken of it? To anyone?"

Not trusting his voice to answer, Severus merely nodded. Though the movement was lost in the safety of his position, Regulus seemed to understand. With a heavy sigh, Regulus asked the one question he could never answer.

"What did they do to you?"

Severus froze, not daring to breathe. But Regulus didn't seem to expect an answer. His tone held only sadness and useless anger, and Severus knew the anger was not directed at him.

With a small sound of frustration, Regulus wrapped his body around Severus' huddled shoulders. He tugged at his closed arms, insistent but not forceful, and when Severus yielded, he pulled him into a tight embrace. Severus did not resist, though he couldn't look at Regulus yet. Tenderly, Regulus kissed him, though he didn't respond. First his forehead, then the corner of his brow, then across his cheekbone. Until finally, Severus relented, meeting him in a kiss, soft and full of things unspoken.

At last, he dared to meet Regulus' eyes, and what he saw written in them shattered him. He was terrified, afraid of what this would mean, of what he would have to surrender. And yet he didn't look away.

Regulus saw the understanding there - the acknowledgement, though unspoken - and it was enough.

*/*

When Severus awoke sometime later, night had fallen. They'd forgotten to light the fire, and the room was cloaked in velvet. Regulus lay against his shoulder, silky hair teasing where it trailed across his bare chest. In the silence, he could hear the soft sounds of whispering sleep, and he lay listening, without moving. The air had grown cold, and he guessed the drizzle must have turned to snow in the night. But Regulus was warm against him, so he pulled the blanket snug around them both, and left the fire unlit. Regulus shifted, but did not wake, and Severus settled himself so he could feel the thump of both their heartbeats. With that slow, steady drumbeat, he contented himself against the darkness and the chill. He matched their breathing, until his body, too, slowed into the soft rhythm of sleep, and dreams took him.

He was wrapped in shadows, content to drift in the fog. Darkness held no terror for him, for it was in secrets he was most secure. This time, though, something was different. He was not alone. The stranger was not at his back, hidden in shadows, not ahead, looming over him. No, the presence was at his side, and he had nothing to fear.

The mist around his feet resolved into a snowy field, stretching toward the horizon: untraveled, unspoiled. He saw the moon rising full from the horizon. Full with the promise of mysteries not yet known. Though he strained to catch her whispered secrets, she showed him only a path limned in moonlight. He heard the crash of waves, unreal, the boundless ocean captured and crushed in a curving shell. He could not see where the path led, and fear crept in.

Turning, he looked back. The branches were skeletal grasping fingers, closer than he'd thought. Startled, he tugged at his companion and they stumbled into a run. Branches clattered in the restless wind and the forest closed around them. They ran faster, darting across the snow covered ground but could not escape the suffocating dark. Their twin footsteps were gone, swallowed.

Running blindly, he did not see the snow-blurred shape in his path, and he went down. Momentum sent him flying into the snow, falling roughly to his knees. His hands flew up to absorb the impact and pain jarred through his wrist. Cold seeped quickly into his cloak. He raised his head and everything was different. The moon hung high overhead, distant and cold. Her laughter rang cruel and deliberate as she looked down on him, sprawled alone in the midst of an empty field. The woods lay far behind, a featureless dark line stretched across the horizon. His footsteps showed his path as a jagged scar of terror across the smooth plain of snow. Yet only one set of footsteps marred the snow. He looked around, searching.

He was alone.

The white fields and traitorous moon rushed from him in a whoosh of sensation, and Severus sat up in bed. The cold had worked its way under the covers, and he shivered. Slipping from the bed, Severus fumbled for his robes, pulling them around his trembling body. He cast incendio to light the fire and conjured a chair close to the heat of its blaze. He let Regulus sleep, watching the steady rise and fall of Regulus' chest, his own back to the fire. Until the dream finally faded and Severus no longer felt the chill of that empty field.

*/*

By the time the first hesitant rays peeked over the horizon, the fire's heat had soaked deep into his bones. The disquieting images of his dream had faded, and Severus focused on the grim reality before him. The prophecy he'd overheard was important, he was sure of it, and they needed to decide what to do about it.

Severus shook off the weariness that draped around him like a blanket and woke Regulus. He placed his hand on a bare shoulder and spoke low into his ear. "Wake up, Reg." Regulus opened one eye halfway, then shut it firmly, mumbling something incoherent. Severus shook him slightly and raised his voice. "There's more I need to tell you, while we can talk freely."

That got his attention, and Regulus groaned and sat up, blinking groggily at him through eyes bleary with sleep. Severus gave him a moment to focus, but the room grew lighter with each passing moment. They didn't have long before they would be expected to return.

When Regulus was alert, Severus told him of the prophecy. Regulus' eyes widened, his face tense as Severus struggled to remember the exact words he'd overheard. There could be no mistake.

"You didn't hear the rest?"

"No, the bloody barkeep got in the way." He grimaced, remembering the way the headmaster had looked at him when he'd been dumped unceremoniously at his feet, only the weakest of excuses coming to mind. So much for his career as a professor. "I only heard half. Dumbledore has the rest."

"What do you think it means?"

Severus didn't answer for a moment, deciding his words. This was what had kept him in front of the fire so long, thinking through the situation. "Predictions only come true when people put enough faith in them to make them happen, setting themselves up to see the prophecy come to pass."

Regulus nodded, letting Severus unfold his argument.

"I don't believe in divination. But the Dark Lord does." Severus remembered his master at the sky's edge, straining toward the stars. "If I tell him of the prophecy, it will consume him."

"True," Regulus said, his brow furrowed. "But won't he just find the child and eliminate them?"

"From everything I've read of prophecies, the more you struggle to prevent them, the more surely you guarantee their fulfillment. If we are to take this prophecy as fact, the best way to see it fulfilled is to tell him."

"It's dangerous, to tell him." Regulus sighed, scrubbing one hand through his hair in a sleepy gesture which left it sticking up, the handprint clearly visible. He yawned hugely before continuing. "But you're right. He will wager everything on it."

"It's the only way. Dumbledore has the prophecy, so their role is already set into motion. If we're to see it fulfilled, we need to make sure our side is ready to play their role."

"Tell him then." Regulus nodded, making up his mind. "I'm close to finding out his secret, whatever it is. I'll make sure his plans won't interfere. You whisper your secrets in our master's ear and make sure he takes them to heart."

Regulus dressed with quick movements, humming to himself as he moved, an absent smile on his face. He seemed relieved to be doing something at last, but Severus could not share his satisfaction. Severus preferred the small incremental steps of a carefully crafted plan, and there were too many variables now. They were caught up in something far beyond his control. Momentum pulled at him, and they hurtled ever closer to the ledge.


	19. Chapter 19

Severus rested his forehead against the smooth surface of polished wood, steadying himself. On the other side, his master waited, expecting success. He was to infiltrate Hogwarts, and he'd failed. The prophecy was all he had to mitigate his master's rage. And maybe, to hasten his defeat. Severus took a deep breath and opened the door.

The Dark Lord was seated at his desk, focused on the objects spread out across the blotter. He didn't look up at Severus' entrance, as he stroked a finger across one thoughtfully. Severus cleared his throat, and the Dark Lord fixed him with the same impenetrable stare.

"My Page of Swords, returned at last."

"My lord?"

The Dark Lord waved his hand, dismissive, and leaned forward. "Come, Severus. Tell me your news."

"I... I don't understand."

"You have information for me. I've seen that." The Dark Lord tapped one finger on the object in front of him, impatient. The figure of a man stared up from the card, storm clouds roiling behind him. A tarot card, Severus saw. "I would have it now."

Morbid curiosity drove him to see the fate foretold there, but Severus understood nothing from the spread. His master gathered up the cards and stacked them into a neat pile.

"I met with Dumbledore, as you ordered." Severus clasped his hands behind his back and straightened to his full height. "The interview went well, but he's not willing to take the risk yet. It seems he's afraid that having me in his employ might... 'compromise' his position to you, my Lord."

Severus dipped his head, in apology. He did not look at his master.

There was silence for a moment, and then the Dark Lord chuckled and began to laugh. His whole body shook as it spilled out of him. It should have been the kind of laugh that made it impossible not to smile, but Severus had to dig his fingernails into his palms to keep his face expressionless.

"And well he should fear you," his master said, still laughing. "The old man is not as foolish as he seems."

"I've failed you."

The Dark Lord stood, coming around the desk to lean against the front. The smile lingered on his lips. His eyes were warm and sharp as he considered Severus, eyeing him speculatively. "You have a complicated path ahead of you, Severus. It seems it will take longer than I'd hoped, but you'll deliver him to me in the end."

Severus shuddered, pushing away the words. He could feel his master's eyes on him, watching, and Severus looked away, clearing his throat. "I don't have your conviction, my Lord. I'm sorry."

The Dark Lord reached out, touching his face with the long fingers of one hand. "Today does not define you, Severus. Have faith." He was handsome then, his smile charming and warm. But Severus could see through him now, to the coldness that lay behind his melting brown eyes, and he pulled away.

His master pulled back his hand, rubbing his fingertips together as if testing the feel of something on his skin. Severus took a step back and the chair hit the back of his knees. He half fell into the chair, relieved for the excuse to move further away.

"That is not the news I'm waiting for though. What is it you have to tell me, Severus?"

"I overheard something, my lord."

"Now we get to the heart of the matter." The Dark Lord's smile widened, and the strength of it called to Severus. He found himself leaning forward, caught in his master's gravitational pull. Severus dug his nails into the carved wood of the armrest, anchoring himself with the solid feel of the whorls against his hands.

"After the interview, I went back to see if I could hear more that might help me." The rapt expression of avarice and expectancy in his master's eyes unnerved him and he stumbled on his words. "Dumbledore was talking to another applicant. For a divination professor."

"What did you hear, Severus?" The Dark Lord licked his lips. Severus eyes' fixed on the movement, pink tongue on soft flesh, and he couldn't look away.

"A... A prophecy, master. About you."

"Tell me."

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies." His voice faltered. "I... I don't know what it means. But it had the sound of true prophecy, and the seer knew nothing of it after the trance ended."

"Was there anything more?"

"There was." Severus stared at his hands, holding his breath without meaning to. "But I was interrupted, and I didn't hear the rest."

The Dark Lord leaned into him. Each breath brushed across his skin, so close Severus could feel their warmth. Severus looked up, caught in the darkness of his eyes, fathomless and suffocating. He closed his eyes, but Severus could still feel him there. When Severus inhaled, he could smell the scent of his master's skin, dark and potent.

The Dark Lord touched his face, the thumb pressing into the center of his forehead. Severus kept his eyes tightly shut, as his master stroked one hand down the side of face. The Dark Lord cradled his head, the palm warm beneath his ear, fingers tangling in his hair.

"Show me."

The point of a wand pressed against his temple, and the Dark Lord stroked his thumb down his throat. Severus trembled under his touch, the words coming out breathless. "Yes, my lord."

Severus opened his mind to his master, and opened his eyes at last.

"Legilimens," they said, together. Severus' voice was tremulous, a whisper, but the Dark Lord's was strong and husky.

Severus shivered as the Dark Lord slipped inside the memory. Cold flooded through him as the room dimmed at the edges and he was engulfed in the muddy darkness of those eyes. He could feel his master's touch on his neck, caressing, and then Severus could see the dismal stairwell of the Hog's Head floating up through the darkness like an image from a dream.

"Show me through your eyes, Severus."

He could feel his master's words in his head, and Severus climbed back up the stairs to hear the prophecy. He was alone, hands gripping the railing as he mounted each step in turn, but he could feel the Dark Lord with him. Severus allowed him in, letting his master see the prophecy through him. He could feel his master's excitement, and when the Dark Lord lowered his wand, Severus' heart was pounding.

The memory faded, but his master stayed pressed against him, one hand in his hair. Severus grunted, trying to pull away, and the Dark Lord closed his fist, yanking his head back. The hair pulled at the scalp, and he forced Severus' head back, exposing his throat.

"What do you make of it?" The Dark Lord held him motionless and spoke against his skin, his voice husky. "I would have your advice, Severus."

Severus squeezed his eyes shut, his throat convulsing. He couldn't think, couldn't protect himself. "Please, my lord." The pressure on his scalp made tears squeeze out the corner of his eyes, and the words came out strangled. His master relented, loosening his grip enough for Severus to bring his head down. "Prophecies don't mean anything to me. I... I don't understand them." The Dark Lord let go, and Severus drew in a shuddering breath. "I've shown you what I know. But you're the one with the talent for interpreting them."

"You're wise, my servant. I see things you cannot." The Dark Lord stood up, turning away from him, and Severus wanted to cry from relief. He could do no more. Now it would be up to the Dark Lord to seal his fate. "The Page brings information only; it's not your place to decide the path."

*/*

The bed shifted as Regulus climbed in, pulling the covers down, and Severus woke with the movement. Regulus put a hand on his shoulder and rolled him onto his back.

"Hmmm?" His brain was muzzy with sleep. "What's happening?"

Regulus put a hand over his mouth, cutting off his questions. Severus made a confused sound of protest, and Regulus leaned down, nuzzling against his neck.

"Shhh," Regulus whispered, one hand tightly clamped over his mouth.

Severus felt teeth raze against his neck for an instant, Regulus' mouth hot against his skin. He stifled a gasp and squirmed under the torment. When he kept his silence for a moment, Regulus released him. The hand moved to push back his hair, exposing more of his neck and Severus arched his head to allow him access.

Regulus shifted, and they lost contact for a moment, only the weight of one arm supporting him as he moved. Then he was on top of Severus, straddling him, and bent again to taste him. Severus groaned, stifling the noise quickly, and grew hard. He could feel Regulus against him, only one thin layer of fabric separating them, and realized that Regulus wore nothing.

Severus reached to touch his face and felt dampness across his cheek. Regulus turned his head, pulling away. Alarmed, Severus opened his mouth to say something, but Regulus pulled the elastic down and he was lost. Regulus rubbed against him, reaching down to trap them together and the elastic stretched tight, holding him exposed. Severus groaned, incoherent, and then Regulus began to move.

When the moment came, Severus cried out, forgetting his silence. Regulus, too, forgot, and moaned something against his sweat-drenched skin. But when Regulus pulled away to find his clothes by feel, neither of them spoke a word.

Severus rolled onto his side, watching the dark shape move about the room, dressing in the dark. He stayed awake for a long time watching, as Regulus left him and went to the Dark Lord. The night moved on, and sleep did not come again.


	20. Chapter 20

Severus dug down through the snow, to the hard black soil beneath. The ground was frozen, and his fingers were raw and aching by the time he unearthed the root from its subterranean bed. Severus sat back on his heels, considering his prize amid the humped barrows and barren beds of the Malfoy garden. The root was misshapen and dull, but he would find a use for it.

Severus tucked it into his potions kit and stood, feeling satisfied. He wiped his hands on his trousers, leaving smears of dirt across the fabric. He heard a noise then, and turned to find he was not alone.

Regulus stood beneath an ash by the garden's entrance, watching. His cloak was black as an inkblot against the stripped branches and barren snow. Severus snapped his bag shut and left it behind.

Regulus' arms were crossed over his chest, and his face was pale white. Severus ignored the prickle of unease along his spine.

"What's happened?" he asked.

"Are you ready to move against him?"

The grey of his eyes seemed darker, and the green was blotted out altogether. His face was as bleak as the winter landscape. Severus pulled up a few feet short, disturbed by the change in him.

"Are you ready?" Regulus asked again, his voice tired.

"He begins to see danger in every shadow, and feels that defeat dogs his every step. So, yes, everything is going according to plan."

Regulus pursed his lips, and they thinned into a line. "But will you do something about it?"

"I..." Severus didn't know how to answer. The Dark Lord would bring about his own destruction, not him. There was nothing Severus could do to speed up the process. "No, it's not time yet. He-"

"My god, Severus. How can you keep doing this?" Regulus let out a frustrated huff, desolate, and the vapor trembled in the cold air. He hunched his shoulders and stared across the dead garden.

"We're making progress," Severus said, to break the silence.

"Are we?"

He couldn't stand the way Regulus was staring, as if he was looking through the rough stone wall at something far in the distance. Severus touched his sleeve, trying to bring him back. "I know it's frustrating."

Regulus made a strangled noise, deep in his throat. "He begins to see danger, you say. So what?"

"Be reasonable." Severus frowned, irritated. "We have to-"

"No. I'm tired of being reasonable." Regulus smacked his hand against the tree trunk. A clump of snow jarred loose and slid downwards through the branches. It fell to earth, and the branch snapped back with an audible crack. "People are dying, and you move your chess pieces."

"Regulus, we can't-"

"He's growing stronger, and I can't keep waiting for you to figure out all the answers." Something had shaken loose inside, and Regulus was trembling with the tension, like the branch above. "I have to act. No matter the cost."

"No, Regulus..." Severus was trembling now too, with fear. "What are you going to do?"

"I don't think so. I already know what you'd say. 'Wait,' like you always do."

Severus scowled, wanting to reach out and shake him. The ice in his eyes terrified him.

"There's something I have to do," Regulus said. "And you can't talk me out of it."

"Out of what?"

But Regulus didn't answer. He leaned his head back against the trunk, staring up through the naked branches at the colorless sky.

The desolation in his eyes leeched away the last of Severus' anger. It dissipated into the winter air, and he was left with the simple truth. Severus couldn't lose him like this. His shoulders slumped, and he asked the only thing he could. "Is there anything I can do?"

Awkwardly, Severus pulled him away from the trunk of the tree, into his arms. Regulus took a shuddering breath and relented. One arm came up around his shoulders, and Regulus hid his face against Severus' neck.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, lips brushing across Severus' skin. "You can't help me with this."

Severus pinched his eyes shut, knowing this was the end. Please, he thought, though he didn't know what he was asking for. Only that he didn't want it to be over. His hands clenched in Regulus' cloak.

Regulus pulled back, though the plea hadn't escaped his lips. "I don't have long."

Severus clung to him under the ash tree, as afraid as he'd been the first time they'd kissed. So many years between those two moments, and yet nothing had changed. The cruel winter sun lanced down through the naked branches, and Severus said nothing, still trapped between the things he wanted and the things he could never have.

"If you love me, finish this. Stay close to him. With luck, I'll be back soon, but if I'm not..." His voice cracked, and Regulus swallowed roughly before trying again. "If I'm not, you have to finish what we started."

"I will," he promised.

He couldn't stop him. Couldn't hold onto the hope that he would return, or pretend it was anything but a sacrifice. But Severus could do that much. He would finish it. Regulus' sacrifice would not be in vain.

"Thank you." Regulus kissed him then, fierce and passionate, and Severus knew it was goodbye. His heart hammered in his chest, and he kissed Regulus back, showing him everything he felt and could not say. So much lay between them: anger and hope, passion, and all the things in between. They had known the joy of beginnings, the agony of separation, and the thankfulness of the journey. And now, an ending unacknowledged, as the path loomed before him, and Regulus walked on alone.

Severus wished more than anything that he could change this. But he could offer him nothing, and it was far too late. He buried himself in Regulus' arms, and breathed the words into an embrace, at the last.

"I love you."

The words he'd never said before, had never been able to admit, even to himself. Regulus had said them a dozen times without effort, but he'd never been able to do the same. Had not thought himself capable.

But now, speaking them at last, Severus knew them as truth. He would not regret it, though it ripped him in half to say them only now. He said them again, louder this time. Not wanting the words to be wasted, when he should've said them so long ago. "I love you, Regulus."

Regulus held him tighter, and Severus knew that he'd heard. "I know." Regulus smoothed down his hair, and did not hide the tears that shone in his eyes. "I've always known."

They held each other in silence, but they could not stay so forever. After a moment, Regulus wrenched himself away with a sob. "I have to go. I'm sorry." One final kiss, fierce and quick, and he was leaving. "I love you. More than anything."

Cold air leeched the tears from his face and stole the air from his chest. Severus leaned against the ash and listened, as the snow crunched underfoot and Regulus left him.

*/*

Though he'd expected it rationally, seeing the abandoned room was an entirely different matter. As he stood in Regulus' quarters, exactly as he'd seen them last, Severus knew with shattering finality that Regulus wasn't coming back. Not from the unmade bed, rumpled covers pushed to one side and trailing to the floor. Not from the chest full of clothes or the merrily burning fireplace. These were distractions, meant to suggest Regulus had left without forethought and give him more time.

But the photograph was missing, of Regulus and his brother at King's Crossing. He'd displayed it at the last, restoring it to a place of honor on the dresser, but the space was empty now. Severus told himself it was a precaution, to keep his prized possession from the hands of his enemies, but deep down he knew the truth.

Regulus was gone.

Realization ran through him like an electric shock, grounding him to the spot as the world collapsed around him. Severus stood numbly to the side, as the others tore apart the room, scattering the remnants of a life all around them as they searched. The jumper Regulus had worn at Hogwarts, the day he'd walked away from Severus. The shirt Severus had stripped off of him at Spinner's End, that had taken so many tries to spell away the bloodstains. And here and there, discarded items of his own, left behind on one of the nights he'd stayed with Regulus. Each one sent a stab of pain through him - a realization of how much he had lost - and grief, as they were tossed aside by uncaring hands.

They searched now for evidence of wrongdoing, for secrets and conspiracies, and Severus knew it was only a matter of time. They would turn on him soon, and he must be ready. The maelstrom of emotions that thundered through him would sap his ability to block the Dark Lord. And Severus couldn't afford that; he'd promised Regulus.

The reversal, when it came, it was not in the form he'd expected.

Instead, it came as a stunning spell. There were no suspicious looks, no accusations. Only the sting of the spell, cast from behind, and the world was devoured in darkness tinged with red light. Severus collapsed without a word.


	21. Chapter 21

When next he was aware, his arms were held firmly, as he hung between the Lestrange brothers. Rudolphus gave him a look of grim satisfaction, glaring down his hawklike nose. Rabastan didn't meet his eyes, and Severus wouldn't seek solace there. The only thing that mattered was the Dark Lord, who stood before him with death in his eyes.

"Please, my lord, I beg you." He kept his voice steady, despite the desperation implied by his plea. His master wouldn't be satisfied by anything less than breaking him, and he must satisfy that need if he was to live. "I didn't know, I swear to you."

"You dare to deny it?" The Dark Lord stepped forward, wand in hand, and his rage was boundless. With each word, he slashed his wand, and the magic flew towards him in a jagged flash of light. "You will pay for your arrogance!"

Severus cried out as the magic sliced into him, carving through cloth to cut the skin beneath. Blood welled to the surface and each cut was an agony, carrying the burn of his master's anger. He sagged between his captors, and then the Dark Lord was in his head.

... They lay beneath a willow tree at the lake's edge, hidden by the hanging branches that trailed into the water. Light filtered through leaves, reflected by softly lapping water, to dance across their bodies. Dancing shadows, tinged faintly green: the in-between color of his eyes ... His head reeled from the chaos of the quidditch celebration, yet it was worth it to see that shining, triumphant face and glimpse the secret smile meant only for him, which promised so much more to come ... All around him, his classmates laughed and called to one another, celebrating their final day at Hogwarts. The world that opened before them at last, but Severus could think only of his absent friend ... Fear clenched his heart, but he would rescue Regulus. He had no plan, no strategy, but he couldn't leave him to suffer ... It wasn't the fear that mattered in the end, it was the truth that could no longer be denied. And he said it again, desperate to be heard. I love you ...

A shudder rippled through him as his master jerked out of his memories. The Dark Lord shoved, and he fell backwards, as his captors released him. Severus collapsed onto the floor, making no attempt to rise. He wept then, too desolate to be ashamed.

With a sound of disgust, the Dark Lord pulled as far away as possible.

"He knows nothing," his master spat out, as if clearing a lingering foulness from his throat. "Whatever Regulus has done, he's done it to this fool too. His memories tell me nothing."

Severus took no notice of their leaving. He knew only the hollowness inside. The boy he'd known, the man he loved: lost to him forever. Regulus was gone, and he had nothing left but empty memories.

He was alone.

*/*

Severus had no idea how much time passed. Each moment slumped by, as empty and inexorable as the last. But his body couldn't sustain itself in such a state, and eventually he slept, and knew no more.

He woke slowly, Regulus' scent teasing his nostrils and haunting his memories. Fine linen slid against his skin and he stretched out his hand, instinctively reaching. And found nothing. Awareness came flooding back, and Severus cried out, coming fully awake. He pushed up onto his elbows to find himself in Regulus' bed.

A pang of anguish went through him, and he clutched at the sheets with their lying echo of his scent. He tasted bile and gagged, but nothing came up. His throat constricted, and he coughed, the sound ragged and painful. Senara had left a pitcher of water by his bedside, and he grabbed for it. His hands shook badly, but he managed to get some into the glass and took a desperate gulp. The cool liquid felt like fire against his ravaged throat, and he coughed, spluttering.

But the liquid soothed his throat, and he sat up, looking for something to latch onto. Someone had moved him and left the pitcher full, but he was otherwise abandoned. The window showed only the dimness of twilight, and its thin, weak light left the room in darkness. Without Regulus, the room was cold and empty.

"Lumos."

He whispered the word and a wavering light flickered into existence, casting the room into stark relief. The sharp-edged shadows shifted as he moved, and he hurried to light the oil lamp instead. The yellow aura of the lamp was a relief, but nothing could dispel the sense of wrongness he had in being here now, alone. He'd grown accustomed to these rooms, a deep sense of familiarity that let him move in the dark and find his place within them by instinct, but they didn't belong to him. Now, he felt like an intruder, and the rumpled sheets where he'd lain evidence of his invasion.

Severus pulled up the sheet, tucking the edges underneath the mattress. He ran his hand across the fabric again and again, until the surface was perfectly smooth. The pillow too bore the imprint of his head, and he shook it out violently, replacing it once the hollowed indentation was gone. Severus stood back and examined the bed, but he'd banished all trace of himself. When he came back, Regulus wouldn't be able to tell Severus had been here without him.

His eyes stung and Severus turned away, going blindly away from the bed. The room was oppressively silent, a taunting reminder. Regulus wasn't coming back.

Severus pulled open a drawer, digging through clothes that still held his scent. Regulus was gone, but he would've left a message, wouldn't he? They had so much history between them; there had to have been some clue he could leave safely. Something the others would dismiss, meant for him. Regulus was gone, but he would've told Severus how to follow him so they could be together again. It had to be hidden here.

There was nothing hidden amid the clothes, and he moved to the desk. Every scrap of parchment held the opportunity for a secret phrase that would tell him what to do, where to go next. But the elegant loops of Regulus' careful handwriting held no secrets. The familiarity of each fragment teased him with false comfort, and his vision began to blur, the letters running together.

Then, at last, he found it. Rolled into a dusty corner, as if it had fallen there, discarded. A crumpled piece of parchment, which read only 'To Severus.' The ink had splattered, marring the otherwise perfect writing, but it was otherwise identical to the tag which had adorned his present so many months ago.

The secret carrier. Imprinted with a shared memory, that only they two could open.

Hope flared in him like a beacon, and Severus fumbled with his robes, reaching for the small silver ball he kept hidden there always. It fell into his hand, and his heart beat faster. The object was heavier than usual, as if it was made of lead, and Severus knew it was a mark of what it held within, weighed down with the secrets it carried. He sat down cross-legged on the floor by the bed to consider the silver ball. In his desperation, he had difficulty narrowing the memory enough to trigger the device, and he failed repeatedly to unlock it.

With a frustrated sound, he focused on clearing his mind first. He slowed his breathing, concentrating on the pattern. In and out, slow and steady. His eyes closed, and he saw only the emptiness of the void, as each exhalation carried with it the tumult of emotions that kept him from his goal. He stayed like this for several minutes, focusing on the clarity of the void, until he thought of nothing else. Only then, with his mind suspended in stillness, did he reach again for the memory.

In the darkness under the sheltering arms of the forest's edge, those muted eyes were as dark as his own. The night air was crisp and cold, but the shiver that ran through him was not caused by the autumn air, but by the confused delight that ran through him at the touch of Regulus' lips on his own. He knew this should feel wrong, fought desperately against the sensation that he knew could not be right, no matter how much it thrilled him. But he'd been wrong about so many other things, had learned so much since he had come to learn magic in a place where it wasn't a sin. Couldn't he be wrong about this too?

Part of him wanted to pull away. But the larger part could think only of the beauty of this boy. Whose pale skin shone in shadowed darkness, whose eyes reflected the mysteries of moonlight. How could he think this wrong? Then Regulus smiled, and he didn't care. Severus kissed him back, awkward and eager. Pressed him back against the trunk of the ash tree, and his hands trembled with fear and delight. Right or wrong, he didn't care. This was what mattered.

With a flare of magic in his palm, the seal dissolved and the secret carrier fell open in his hand. He opened his eyes, and saw a precisely folded piece of parchment tucked into one half, and the photograph behind it. Retrieving the parchment with trembling hands, he carefully unfolded it and began to read.

_My Dearest Severus,_

_I've learned our master's plan, and I must stop him. This secret is too dangerous to burden you with, for I fear even your skills could not keep this hidden from him. I, who lack your talent, could not stay to have it ripped from me. I see no way out._

_Remember your promise, and see to the downfall of the Dark Lord. I make this sacrifice knowing it will not be in vain, for you will see this through to the end._

_I'm sorry to leave you to finish this alone. _

_I regret nothing, except that I could not stay by your side. You have always had my love, and I've never been prouder of you than in this last moment. Though I must leave you, it's the thought of your bravery and your love that will sustain me to my bitter end. I am afraid, but your love gives me the courage to do what I must do, for the salvation of us all._

_Forgive me._

_All my love,_

_Regulus_

His vision blurred with tears and his fingers tightened, clinging on to all that was left to him of Regulus. It was not enough, and he crumpled the parchment into a ball and shoved it back into the secret carrier..

The idiot. They could have found a way, they would have figured out some way to destroy this... this secret plan of the Dark Lord's, whatever it was. Regulus didn't have to-

Damn it. Severus could've protected him. If he'd found a way to make him stay.

The bloody fool. Irrational, impulsive, ignorant fool. Rushing off to get himself killed when they could've figured it out together, if he'd only waited. Should've been a Gryffindor with his idiot brother, and then he'd never have ended up in this mess. Severus would never have given up like that. He'd never 'sacrifice' himself in some grand gesture of bloody heroism.

He snapped the two halves together, sealing the crumpled letter inside where he'd never have to look at it again. He stuffed it into his pocket, and slammed his hand into the wall. It wasn't enough and he took up the water pitcher, hurling it across the room to shatter. Darkened spatters marked the impact, and water ran in rivulets down the wall. Crystal shards glistened everywhere, scattered across the ruins of Regulus' room. They shone from scattered linens and discarded clothes, dagger sharp and wet with tears.


	22. Chapter 22

His vision hazed with red and Severus slashed out with his wand.

"Sectumsempra!"

Crimson cut across Potter's cheek and he fell backwards, one arm twisting unnaturally beneath him as he fell. He screamed, and Severus advanced, merciless.

A month tamping down his rage to stay in favor. Seething inside, and finally he had someone he could hurt. Potter deserved it. For the years of cruelty, for stealing Lily, and for saving his life, when they both would've been better off without it. Potter deserved it, for having what he always wanted when Severus had lost everything.

"Wait, Severus. Please wait."

The words meant nothing, but the oddity of his first name from Potter nagged at him.

"Severus, please."

He hesitated, holding back the spell for an instant. There would be time. But he wanted to know, and it would take only a second to find out first. "Why did you call me that?"

"Because it's what Lily calls you."

It surprised him, that they spoke of him. It must have shown on his face, for Potter seized on it eagerly.

"She talks about you all the time. She says you're different, if we could only figure out how to reach you."

"She's wrong." He was done being an instrument. He would not be theirs.

Potter blanched at the expression on his face, switching tactics quickly. "I'm sorry for everything we did. We were right bastards - I see that now. You didn't deserve it."

"Enough." Severus scowled, irritated. He didn't want apologies; he wanted revenge.

"Please don't kill me." Potter scrambled agonizingly backwards, grunting as he put weight on his broken arm. His boots churned up slush, leaving muddy stains in the snow. "I need to be there for her. She's pregnant."

Severus stopped dead.

"That's right. Pregnant." Potter was babbling now, the words tumbling out in a rush. "She's-"

"Shut up!" Severus gestured him to be quiet, and tried to think. He stepped back, and the flow of words finally stopped. Severus kept his wand trained on him, and Potter watched him warily.

He'd dreamed only of revenge for a month, and the prophecy came easily. _The power to vanquish the Dark Lord._

"When is she due?"

Potter's eyes widened, but he answered readily. "End of July. She's in her first trimester. We only just-"

"Shit." At summer's end.

Lily Evans carried the child of prophecy.

Severus sat heavily on a rock, heedless of the snow. Numbly, he stared at Potter, letting his wand drop. Potter glanced to his own wand, tantalizingly out of reach, but Severus gave him a dark look and he reconsidered.

Severus watched him through narrowed eyes, his mind reeling as he realized how stupid he'd been. Prophecies were self-fulfilling, he'd known that. But Severus hadn't considered his own role. He'd planted doubts in his master's mind, but Severus had been the one who needed to hear the prophecy. He would spare Potter's life, and they would survive the third resistance.

Lily's child, born as the seventh month dies. The child would give him his revenge.

But even as he thought it, Severus knew it wasn't true. This was no resistance. Only James Potter, sitting in the mud, with blood smeared across one cheek and his glasses knocked askew.

"Snape? What is it?"

Severus looked up and found Potter staring at him, fear replaced by curiosity.

"Nothing." Dumbledore would know soon enough. Severus would not be the one to tell him the burden his child would carry. "Just keep her safe."

"I will." Potter gaped at him, is if he'd never truly seen him before.

Yet Severus must have the basic idea. There would come a day when Severus would save them both to fulfill the prophecy. Severus sighed, scrubbing a hand across his face.

"When the time comes, know that I'm not your enemy. No matter how it may seem." He stood, squaring his shoulders. Potter nodded, and Severus left him sitting in the snow.

*/*

From his position at the edge of the ballroom, Severus watched the glittering throng. Dancers dived through the crowd like raptors, swooping through gaps in the herd. Preservation instinct kept them from danger, and they stepped aside without thought, but Severus pressed his back against the wall when they came too close. His instincts screamed at him to flee. He didn't belong.

"Relax, Sev." Senara leaned closer, fluffing up the red silk handkerchief she'd tucked into his breast pocket. "Try to enjoy yourself."

"Don't worry about me," Severus said. "Go. Have fun."

She hooked her arm around his elbow, settling in beside him. She'd slipped out of the crush of people to find him lurking against the wall. He could hear her skirts rustling as she swayed to the music. Were her toes actually tapping beneath the full skirt?

"I hate seeing you so miserable," she said.

"I'm not miserable."

A huff of amusement, almost too soft to catch. Neither of them spoke, but the silence was more comfortable than anything they could have said in that moment. She leaned her head against his shoulder.

Across the room, Rabastan was telling Rosier a joke, his hand gestures obvious from here. Rosier choked, spluttering, and Rabastan smacked him helpfully on the back. Severus watched, but felt nothing. Beside him, Senara was working up to something. He didn't want to hear the concerns he knew were boiling inside her. But she cared, when no one else did. He didn't want to hurt her either.

After a moment, she squeezed his arm once and released him. She tilted her chin up to look at him. "You've lost yourself. In anger. In grief."

He stiffened. "I'm fine," he said reflexively, but the lie was unconvincing.

"You have the right, god knows. I don't know what I'd do, if something happened-" Her lips pressed into a thin line as she cut herself off, glancing toward Rabastan. "But he wouldn't want this."

"Senara-"

"No! I won't stand by and watch you do this to yourself."

"It's none of your business," he snapped.

Her face scrunched up, like she was trying to decide whether she wanted to yell or punch him. "Yes, it is," she said finally. "I care about you, and I know you're hurting."

"You don't know anything."

"I know he loved you."

The words hit him like a blow, and he crumpled up inside. His irritation vanished, gone in an instant, and all he could feel was emptiness.

"That didn't stop him from leaving," he said, in a growl.

Her expression faltered, and he could see the quiver at the edges of her mouth. She was trying not to cry, he realized, and stared. She was blinking too often, and he could see moisture clinging to her pale lashes. How could she feel so much, when he felt nothing?

"No, and I'm sorry." She reached for his hand, but he pulled away before she could touch him. "But you've shut me out for a month. You're hiding behind your anger, and you're not getting better. He'd want you to let go. He'd want you to live your life."

She reached for him, and this time he relented, letting her grab his hand. His palms were slick with sweat, but she didn't let go.

Senara opened her mouth to say something, but he gave her a small shake of the head. The crowd was parting, and their master approached. She turned to see what he was looking at, and went a shade paler as she saw the Dark Lord. The emotions drained from her face as she pulled to a safe distance.

"Ah, Severus. Skulking about, I see." The Dark Lord smiled and held out a fluted glass. "Do have a drink."

The Dark Lord was finely dressed, handsome, and the liquid glowed amber in the candlelight. He stepped closer, his long slender fingers tangled around the stem of the glass. The scent of his cologne was soured by the reek of alcohol.

"I'd rather not, actually."

His lips turned down, displeased, and Severus looked away. But the press of the crowd was no less unsettling. The constant dip and swell of movement made him dizzy, and the thought of champagne was too much.

"I insist." The Dark Lord pressed the glass into his hand, expectant. "You could do with a little loosening."

His fingers closed around the stem by reflex, and Severus sighed, accepting it.

"Fine," he said, but did not drink.

Senara fluttered her eyelashes up at the Dark Lord as she accepted her own glass, far more graciously. The Dark Lord rested a hand at the small of her back as she joined them. Severus scowled, and she shot him a warning look as she took a sip of champagne.

"Such silliness doesn't suit Severus," she said, a momentary pout touching her lips. "But it is a lovely party, don't you think? So much color and light!"

She slipped in between them on a cloud of perfumed air and excited chatter, and Severus gritted his teeth. He had to get ahold of himself. He took a sip of champagne. Anxiety bubbled through him, heady and strong. Her laughter was shrill in his ears and the room seethed around him. The air was too thin for so many people.

"Are you all right?"

Senara touched his arm, and he started. Two sets of eyes studied him. Hers were pale blue and full of concern, but his master's were narrowed with calculation.

"I'm fine." Severus tried to smile, but he couldn't look away from his master.

"Our Severus doesn't like parties," the Dark Lord said, tucking her hand over his arm. "But you, my dear, should be dancing."

He gave her a conspiratorial smile, and nudged her toward the dance floor. She hesitated, but the dismissal was clear. She cast Severus a worried look, and slid reluctantly into the crowd to find Rabastan.

The Dark Lord turned his back on her.

"It pleases me to see my soldiers transformed." His lips twitched, the hint of a smile on his master's face. "Even you."

Severus felt his cheeks burn. He tugged at the borrowed waistcoat, ridiculous in Rabastan's finery. Senara had taken over, turning him into one of her projects.

"I would prefer a mask, my Lord," he said honestly.

The Dark Lord laughed, and leaned against the wall beside him to watch the party. The sound of his voice was rich and deep. It sent a tremor of unease through Severus. His master had ordered a party, and the rosy flush of his skin showed he was indeed celebrating. Severus had to know why.

Narcissa was preening nearby, and he watched the performance. Gemstones flashed at her wrists and throat, but it was the glow of her pregnancy that stood out to Severus. Was Lily so obvious?

"What's the occasion?" he asked, deliberately casual. "Malfoy's news doesn't warrant such a celebration, surely."

He kept his eyes fixed on Narcissa, but Severus felt his master stiffen at the question. "He's a trusted lieutenant. I can indulge him."

Severus was a trusted advisor too, and he knew the Dark Lord better than that. His master liked to gloat.

Severus raised an eyebrow. "You could," he said. "But you're not."

His master gave him a wry look, and took a drink of champagne before leaning closer. "Lucius isn't the real reason, no." His lips split into a smile, and Severus could smell the alcohol. "I've found them."

"The prophecy has been confirmed, then?" Through sheer force of will, he kept his voice level, as if he wasn't discussing Lily's life. "We can't afford a mistake."

The Dark Lord frowned, displeased, but Severus didn't waver. He'd always been the voice of caution; the question would not betray him. Severus projected a calmness he didn't feel as his master leaned closer. He towered over him, using the difference in their heights to intimidate.

"I would not risk everything unless I were certain," the Dark Lord hissed. "You know that."

"There are other possibilities, my lord."

Severus tried to tamp down his rising sense of panic. His throat tightened and the words came out shrill. "We must be sure."

"The timing is right. All my readings agree."

"Readings?"

"Yes." His master scowled, his expression dark. "The Potters must die."

"What about the Aurors?" Severus demanded. "They fit the pattern too. You can't risk everything on tea leaves and tarot cards."

"Enough!"

The word came as fast and sharp as the crack of a belt. Severus jerked back, startled, and smacked his head on the wall. The crowd shifted away.

"You overstep yourself, and I will not tolerate it." His master placed a hand beside his head, cutting off his view of the room, and leaned in to growl in his ear. "_You_ answer to _me_."

Severus sucked in a breath and held it. But he knew what the Dark Lord needed. He let terror show on his face, and a tremor ran through his master's body. His skin crawled at the expression in his master's dark eyes.

"Master, please." His voice was a hoarse whisper, hardly louder than the pounding of his pulse, but his master was too close to miss his words. "I mean no disrespect. I'm your advisor, and I need information to fulfill the task you've given to me."

Severus dipped his head in submission, breaking eye contact at last, but didn't try to escape. He could feel his master's breath on his face, stale with the reek of alcohol. He closed his eyes and tried not to move. Then the Dark Lord pulled back, and he could breathe again.

"Very well. Ask your questions then."

His master's face was tight with anger, but the threat had receded from his eyes. Severus kept his posture submissive and his tone respectful. "You've dismissed the Longbottoms as targets, but I know of nothing to eliminate them. Why are you so certain it's the Potters?"

"Your prophecy is not the only sign which concerns my fate. I've spared you details, since you wouldn't understand anyway. But I do, and the same facts are revealed each time."

He trailed off, staring through Severus without seeing. His eyes were distant, and after a moment, Severus asked, "Facts?"

"Yes."

The Dark Lord shook his head, refocusing. When he hesitated and glanced toward the crowd, Severus cast Muffliato and gestured for him to continue. "Please, my lord. Tell me."

"No matter the method, every reading shows the same two things in my future. The first, a child of summer who holds the seeds of defeat."

"And the second?"

"A spy, serving two masters, who will tip the scales at the end."

"I... I don't understand." The buzzing drone of the spell pressed in at the edges of his awareness, and Severus stared at his master, uncomprehending. "You have a spy?"

His master's lips cracked apart in a smile, as satisfaction spread across his face. "One of Dumbledore's trusted Order has come to serve me. They offer the Potters as a token of their devotion."

Severus tried to think through his shock. Betrayed, by one of their own, and Severus would fail his promise. "This spy. Can we trust them?"

"I've searched their thoughts. They belong to me now."

"Do we have any assurance the signs are connected?" Severus forged ahead, though his master looked at him in surprise. He couldn't afford to stop now. "You've dismissed the Longbottoms because of this spy. Do your readings link them?"

The Dark Lord scowled, and then pursed his lips, considering. "Not directly. But the spy is confirmation, I'm sure of it."

"Please, my lord. This is too important for assumptions." He was begging, he knew it, but Severus would do far worse things to fulfill his promise. "Unless your readings say the spy betrays the child, we can't risk it."

"They don't, but it's ridiculous to think they're unrelated."

"I'm not asking you to dismiss your beliefs, only to wait for confirmation." Severus tried to think of another way, but he was rushing headlong toward the ledge, out of control. He had only one fact which might slow the fall. "The Potters haven't resisted you three times, but the Longbottoms have. Until all the terms of the prophecy are met, don't commit yourself to this course."

"The decision is made. I will attack." The Dark Lord straightened his tie, returning his attention to the party. "If they escape, you have your confirmation and we kill them in the second attempt. If they don't, we'll consider other targets then."

"One more question, please." Severus grabbed his sleeve, and spoke quickly. "Your spy will tip the scales, you said. Did your prophecies say which way?"

Severus saw doubt flicker across his face, but it was quickly replaced by annoyance, and his master shook off his hand. "Don't trouble me with things you don't understand, Severus. Your role is done, and I don't need you to chart my destiny."

The Dark Lord waved his hand, and the muffling charm fell. The voices pressed in, shrill as crows, and his master spoke over the ruckus. "Leave the prophecies to me, and celebrate when I tell you to."

Severus raised the glass to his lips, and his master was satisfied. The scent filled his nostrils, strong and fruity, and he remembered the taste of champagne on Regulus' lips. That too had been a celebration, and what had it gotten them? His stomach turned, and he vanished the foul beverage as soon as his master was out of sight.

*/*

Severus stood alone on the barren hilltop, waiting for Dumbledore. He risked everything to come here, but if the spy was ready to hand them over, he had no choice. Whatever protections they had, they weren't enough.

In the whistling wind, he heard the sound of skittering movement. He whirled to face the noise, but saw nothing in the black shadows. It was only the wind in the trees, he told himself, gripping his wand tighter. Or a creature of the forest. His master had no way to know of this meeting.

But that was a lie. An Order member, he'd said. Until Severus knew the spy's identity, he could be sure of nothing. Every precaution was useless if he was betrayed from the other side. Dumbledore gave his trust too easily, and Severus had no protection against fools. If his master caught him, Severus would die and Lily would follow him to the grave.

Magic split the sky and a flash of light blinded him. His wand was ripped from his hand, but his vision crackled with whiteness instead of the poisonous green of the killing curse.

Dumbledore had arrived.

Severus fell to his knees, letting the spell prickle over him and fade. "Don't kill me!" His sight was returning now, but he didn't try to find his wand.

"That was not my intention." Dumbledore's voice boomed over the sound of the roaring wind. A tone to instill fear, despite his words. "Well, Severus? What message does Lord Voldemort have for me?"

"No message. I'm here on my own account." He was a Death Eater, and nothing more. Severus had only the ugliness of his own actions to speak for him. "I... I come with a warning. No, a request, please." He couldn't mention the spy; Dumbledore would never trust his word.

Dumbledore made a disgusted noise in his throat, but he did not refuse. Severus dared a glance to judge his mood. The Headmaster's eyes burned with anger. The glow of his lit wand cast his features into unreal lines and harsh edges, like a schoolboy telling scary stories, but Severus was not a child.

The Headmaster cast a complex silencing spell, designed to provide a bubble of quiet rather than to prevent eavesdropping. Severus frowned, insulted at the parlor trick. Such a spell was wasteful, requiring immense concentration to maintain in such an open environment, but useless for anything but dramatic effect.

"What request could a Death Eater make of me?"

The revulsion in the Headmaster's voice made it clear Severus would earn no favors. But Dumbledore was his only chance to protect them.

"The prophecy." He rang his hands, nervously, and let his fear show. It was the only thing Dumbledore would believe of him. "The prediction, and Trelawney."

"Ah, yes. How much did you relay to Lord Voldemort?"

"Everything I heard."

Dumbledore's eyes flashed with anger, but they held vindication too. He expected this from Severus.

"It's for that reason... He thinks it means Lily Evans."

"The prophecy did not refer to a woman." With Dumbledore's attention turned to his charges, his anger began to lose its heat, like an ember exposed to the chill of an empty room. "It spoke of a boy born at the end of July-"

"You know what I mean. He thinks it means her son." His stomach twisted at the revulsion he saw in the Headmaster's face, a knot that he might never untangle. But Dumbledore was listening, and that was all that mattered now. "He's going to hunt her down. He'll kill them all."

"If she means so much to you, surely Lord Voldemort will spare her? Could you not ask for mercy for the mother, in exchange for the son?"

"I have..." His insides twisted at the lie. He tasted bitterness, and forced the words out through his nausea. "I have asked him."

"You disgust me." And Severus could only hang his head, ashamed. This was the taste of defeat, like arsenic on his tongue, even if he got what he wanted. "You do not care, then, about the deaths of her husband and child? They can die, as long as you have what you want?"

"Hide them all, then. Keep her - them - safe. Please."

"And what will you give me in return, Severus?"

"In - in return?" As long as they lived to fulfill the prophecy, he would suffer any indignity. "Anything."

Dumbledore's gaze was intent, showing curiosity for the first time. Eventually, he might suss out Severus' intentions, but he would not risk their safety.

"Keep them safe. Promise me." He hesitated, wanting to tell him of the traitor in their midst. But Severus had no idea how highly they were positioned. "Whatever protections you have now, they are not enough." He could say no more.

The Headmaster nodded, and Severus could see the gears of his mind beginning to turn. "I will see them safe."

Dumbledore disapparated, and the artificial silence left with him. With the roar of wind and the rattle of dead leaves, sound crashed over him. He fell, retching into the leaves. Not even the scream of the wind could drown out the sound of his tears, come at last.


	23. Chapter 23

The underside of the clouds flashed with light, picking up the colors of the battle beneath. Red for stunning, blue for shields, and Dumbledore's brilliant white. Severus said nothing, scanning the clouds for the brutal stab of green that would mean he was too late.

Beside him, Senara wove a litany of protective spells, lost to her surroundings, while the rest of them watched the knot of duelists. The battle writhed back and forth beneath the kaleidoscopic clouds, like a creature in its death throes. Their fiercest fighters ringed the Dark Lord, holding off the Aurors, so their master faced Dumbledore alone. Rudolphus had been left to fight the younger Order members as they retreated.

Another pulse of white magic, and Rudolphus stumbled, falling to one knee, caught between Black and the wolf. He was a skilled fighter, but alone he was struggling.

"Please, Severus. He needs me." Rabastan rocked onto the balls of his feet, gripping his wand so tightly that it threatened to snap. But he'd been trained to obey.

Severus hesitated. They were to guard Senara at all costs - his idea, so he'd be free to rescue Lily when the time came. But he couldn't deny Rabastan the chance to face death with his brother. "Go," he said, and Rabastan took off running.

Rosier watched him go, a scowl on his face. "We should be out there," he said.

Severus stared into the far distance and said nothing. It was beautiful country, undulating hills and softly waving heather. Odd that their presence didn't corrupt that. If not for the unnatural flashes of light, this could be a muggle postcard.

A flicker of movement caught his attention, down low to the horizon. He looked, trying to find whatever had caught his eye. The land settled into a low hollow, with a crooked fence straddling the hillock and zigzagging off into the distance. The farmlands were long deserted, with the fence missing or listing wildly, but a few structures still stood among the heather. A hollowed out paddock nestled down in the vale, far away from the main battle. So faded he'd not noticed it earlier. For a moment, nothing moved. Then, when he'd almost dismissed it as a trick of his imagination, something shifted in the doorway.

"I'll be damned."

"What?"

He'd spoken absently, not meaning to be overheard.

"No," Severus hissed, as Rosier started to turn. "Don't look."

Rosier scowled, but did as he was told. Eventually, a pale, fat face peeked out, and Severus made out a fringe of drab-colored hair, the same color as the dirty thatch of the roof.

"Pettigrew."

Quickly, he devised a plan, watching the shack as he gave his orders. There was no sign of Lily, but he knew they must be there. Rosier would stay with Senara to maintained her spells, and he would go after Lily. A simple plan, but Senara refused to cooperate.

"Stay here," he ordered, for the second time. "Keep the shields going."

Senara frowned, stubborn. "You don't know how many are in there. They could have extra guards."

"Regardless," Severus said. "You're staying."

She gave him a sour look, as if she knew. She rested a hand on his arm and spoke softly, only for him. "You don't have anyone to watch your back now, Sev. You're not going alone."

He was vile. He didn't want to do this. Emotion strangled him, and Severus could only put his hand over hers in a silent gesture of apology. When he could speak, he recalculated and tried again. "I'll take Rosier. Please, just stay."

Rosier would be easier. They'd traveled along the perimeter of the same circles, but Evan Rosier had never been what Severus would call a friend. Not like Senara.

It was no use.

"I'm coming." Her jaw was set, mouth fixed in a thin line. "Rabastan has his brother. And you have me."

Severus ground his teeth, saying nothing. He'd risked enough already; saying too much would give him away. Time was running out.

"Let's get this over with," Rosier said, brandishing his wand.

He nodded, curtly. So be it.

And then they were off, heads low as they ran for Pettigrew's hiding place. It took a moment for the duelists to take note, and the three of them moved unopposed. Then the battle surged towards them, as the Aurors abruptly shifted their attack. Moody first, and Longbottom a step behind. Moody's crazy eye rolled sideways, staring through the aged wood of the shack. Then the Aurors were close enough to cast and Severus was blinded by the flare of magic.

He heard Senara shriek as a spell shot towards her. For one blessed moment, he thought she'd been stunned. But she was quick on her feet, and Moody missed. Rosier howled and turned back, flying at Moody. The ozone sizzled as their spells met and Severus left them behind.

They were nearly there. Severus let Senara go first, hoping Pettigrew would stun her. Or she could get caught up fighting, trying to clear a path. Her strength lay in defense, not attack, and it was a reasonable hope. Winded and without cover, surely they would be an even match.

But Pettigrew didn't raise his wand until the last second. His eyes widened comically as she pointed her wand. He scrambled to defend himself, too late. He crumpled, unconscious, and Senara slipped by.

Severus cursed, trying to catch up. But the bulky form blocked the doorway now. He wasted precious seconds trying to shove Pettigrew out of the way, then gave up and climbed over.

"Senara, wait." He waited, praying that she would materialize by his side. He could make her guard the door, out of the way. She'd be safe.

But no answer came.

A scuffling sound came from the back of the building, then the whoosh of a stunner. Severus followed the sound, scuttling from one stall to the next, using them as cover. The deliberate pace was torture, but he wouldn't let them die because of a stray spell. Senara had them pinned down; she'd wait to take them on until he was there.

He found her tucked into the last stall on the left, using it as cover. Senara grinned, and he felt sick inside. Just past her, Severus saw a small tack room, with no exits. A massive water trough lay on its side, and he could see Potter peeking over the top. The gold rim of his glasses caught the light, flashing in the dimness. Severus couldn't see Lily, but he knew she'd be with Potter.

Severus evaluated his options, all of them bad. If James and Lily could apparate, they would have done so. The battle outside wouldn't last forever, and he couldn't afford to deal with the victors as well. He knew the only solution.

He slipped in beside Senara. Voice low, he whispered his final instructions. "Wait for Potter to duck down. Then go." He pointed out an overturned table on the right. It was small, but had fallen so that it would provide a difficult angle for Potter. "Keep them pinned down. When the others catch up, they'll be overrun."

Senara nodded. She peered around the side, watching for her chance. Severus pulled a second wand from his robes, taken from a corpse during a recent battle. She ran for the table. He fought the urge to squeeze his eyes shut, and forced himself to watch. He owed her that much. When she got to the table, she turned back to give him a thumbs up. Her smile flashed bright as quicksilver, and pricked deep.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Green light flashed out from his wand. The killing spell took her from behind. She crumpled bonelessly to the floor, a discarded doll cast aside. She did not move again. Severus went to her, bending to check her pulse, but his fingers curled back before he could touch her flesh. He tugged on her sleeve instead, and she rolled onto her back. Pale blue eyes stared back at him, as empty as he was. No trace of betrayal in those eyes. She'd trusted him.

A gentle hand touched his sleeve, and he knew without looking that it was Lily. "I'm sorry," she whispered, and he steeled himself against the knowledge of what he'd done, turning instead to look at the woman who had made it a necessity.

Lily was a mess. Strands of hair escaped from her braid, sticking crazily in every direction. Those vivid emerald eyes stood out in her dirt-smeared face, and her lashes were thick with grime. She was huge, and her pregnant belly made her unreal to him. Yet she was Lily still, and without thinking, he reached to wipe the grime from her face, smiling as he revealed those familiar freckles.

James cleared his throat uncomfortably, stepping to her side, and Severus dropped his hand at once, looking instead at his rival for so many years. "Why didn't you apparate?" he asked simply.

"It's not safe for the baby," Lily answered, and Severus nodded, accepting.

"That will make it harder." He tested the wall and found a place where the wood planks had rotted through. "Curses are set, but you have a clear path."

Severus kicked out the boards and peered through the gap. He searched the horizon for a familiar landmark and pointed, to a knobby outcrop where bare rock poked out over the heather. "Go straight until that outcrop, then turn south. There's a ward, but you can..." He broke off, as he realized the ward would have fallen with Senara. He shuddered, and Lily moved beside him, her hand squeezing his arm.

"I don't know how you'll avoid being seen, but that never does seem to be a problem." He waited, but of course Potter didn't offer up his secret.

Instead, Potter grinned: the roguish grin that always meant trouble. "We'll manage." It was unsettling to be included in that smile, rather than see it at his expense.

Severus faltered, looking down at the strange wand in his hand. "Take this, so it can't be traced."

Potter took it from him, slipping it into his robes without meeting his eyes. "Thank you, Snape." Lily came to her husband's side, placing one hand on his arm. "Severus. I... I don't know what made you decide to help us. But you saved us, and... Thank you." He wiped his hand on his robes, leaving a smeared handprint, and offered it to Severus.

After a moment, Severus took it, not quite knowing why he did so. They shook, and James beamed at him. He snatched back his hand and scowled, annoyed, and James gave a sharp bark of laughter. Lily stepped between them quickly, before either man could speak, and hugged him fiercely. She felt strange in his arms, her belly pressing into him in a quite disturbing way. But her red hair tickled his neck, and the scent of her shampoo teased his senses, and he knew some things would never change. "Thank you," she whispered, and she pushed back to look at him, tears shining in her eyes.

"Go," he said, and found his voice scratched and dry. "Before the others come."

James nodded and pulled her away. "Wait," she said, and he let go as she turned back to Severus.

"Come with us."

He shook his head. "I can't."

"Please, Severus. You don't have to do this anymore. We can-"

"No."

She fell silent, watching him, and he saw that she'd begun to cry, each tear leaving a visible track on her dusty cheeks. She said nothing, waiting, and even James looked to him for an explanation now.

"I'll cover your escape." He turned his back on her, moving to the door, where he could watch the battle.

"They'll kill you!"

"But the child will live." He drew his wand, and settled into wait.

Silence fell behind him, but the sounds of fighting were closer now. He closed his eyes and listened, wondering if he would hear the spell that finished him.

"I won't let you do this," James said.

"My turn, Potter. You didn't ask then, and I'm not asking now."

James cursed foully, and Severus smiled to hear it.

"I'll do the saving this time." Severus opened his eyes, and magic flashed in the clouds. Red, green and white, like Christmas lights, and he was ready to receive his present.

"Maybe, but there will be no sacrifices today."

Severus whipped around to face him, but Potter already had his wand ready.

"Stupefy."

The last thing he saw was Lily's tear-streaked face, as she buried her face in her husband's cloak and turned away.


	24. Chapter 24

"I have a proposal."

Severus saw his master's jaw tighten, but the Dark Lord did not look up from his writing.

His master sat at his desk, still working, though the afternoon sun had sunk nearly to the horizon. The scratch of the quill was like the skittering of insects. Severus shuddered, hearing the scrape of carapaces in his mind, but did not retreat. He'd spent too long waiting for it to be safe. No longer.

At last, the Dark Lord set down his quill and let the scroll snap shut. Irritation clouded his features, and a command flashed out, quick and sharp. "Speak."

"I would be your spy," he said, holding his ground.

"You failed. I have my own spy."

"Who could not deliver on his promise," Severus said. "I swear to you, my lord. I will not fail again."

"No, Severus. You won't." His master smiled with something so like sadness that it made Severus stop, staring. "His failure confirms the prophecy. Yours? Is only failure."

"You knew they would escape?" He could not help the question, though it might reveal him. In his mind, the logical argument he'd prepared was falling apart.

"Prophecy does not lie."

Despair washed over Severus. He'd been so sure, when he'd killed her, that it was the only way. Lily. The child. Their destiny. One sacrifice, and he'd be able to save them all. That he'd finish it, like he promised. But he'd killed Senara, felt his own magic stifle her forever, and still it wasn't enough.

"The spy who serves two masters: he will tip the scales, you said."

"Yes, but-"

"What if _I_ am that spy?"

His master's face blanched, though his eyes revealed nothing. "No. I'm certain. I have my spy."

"You cannot afford to take the chance." Severus had the rhythm of his argument now. The pattern of his thoughts was a rutted track, and he fell back into it with relief. "If you're to be certain, I must go back to Hogwarts."

"But Dumbledore suspects you." The Dark Lord was gripping the edge of the desk, his knuckles gone white with strain.

"Dumbledore suspects everyone," he said, smiling. "He's been betrayed from within."

"Then how can you convince him? He'll never trust you."

"I don't need him to."

Severus could feel the static buildup of magic in the air between them. Sensation crawled across his flesh from wrist to elbow, prickling, as his master's doubt snaked through the mark in his skin. He felt oddly detached, feeling the pulse of someone else's indecision alongside his own resolve.

Then the mark settled, twitching, into stillness, and his master unclenched his hands from the desk. "Explain."

"I know you. Your plans, your servants. Your powers. Dumbledore wants that knowledge."

"So?"

"He doesn't need to trust me. He only needs to think he's smarter than me."

The Dark Lord studied him, thinking. Then a smile broke across his face, sinister as his anger had been. "A dangerous game, Severus." He chuckled darkly. "Are you sure you're strong enough to play? He shares some of my skills, you know."

"I'm stronger now." Severus tasted the poison of the lie in his throat, and spit it out anyway. "Before, I was weak. Vulnerable. Now that's been cut away."

His master leaned close, the space of a breath between them. He meant to intimidate Severus with his nearness. But Severus didn't flinch. Regulus was gone. Severus could break, and feel nothing more.

"Perhaps you're right," the Dark Lord said at last. "But I would be risking much on you."

"You need someone who can resist him," he agreed, nodding. "Keep their minds absolute. Does your spy have that skill?"

"No."

Severus smiled, and felt the skin stretch too tight across his bones. "Then let me prove myself."

*/*

Severus waited for his appointment, shifting uncomfortably before the statue guarding the headmaster's office. His hand itched for his wand, but he knew it would not help him. He'd come to the enemy's stronghold willingly; he could not appear as a threat.

The statue moved, revealing the curving staircase, and he heard the click of hard soles descending. Professor McGonagall looked him over, dissecting him from behind precariously perched glasses. He felt appallingly like a nervous schoolboy, and he stamped down the impulse to fidget. He met her eyes as an equal, and inclined his head in polite acknowledgement.

She nodded back gravely, her grey eyes betraying neither hostility nor familiarity. "Mr. Snape. The headmaster will see you now." She led the way up the winding stairs, and he followed.

The room to which she led him was richly appointed and filled to the brim with an assortment of priceless magical instruments. The focus was on utility, however, not display. Leather-bound books lay about in piles, with partially-filled scrolls left to mark the page. Strange instruments whirred softly as they went about their various tasks. Those left idle were tucked safely away where they could come to no harm. The room was well used, unlike anything at Malfoy Manor.

She left him there without a word, and alone, he waited for the Headmaster. Severus longed to inspect the objects around him, but he knew they wouldn't leave a known Death Eater unobserved among such objects, and so he waited, knowing he must be watched.

The idleness grated at his nerves, until at last he compromised and wandered to a nearby bookcase. He cocked his head sideways to read the titles, but kept his hands grasped firmly behind his back. He recognized many of the volumes, though he'd never seen them in their original forms. Severus raised an eyebrow in surprise, finding many rare dark arts grimoires alongside the expected transfiguration and magical theory texts.

"Yes, Mr. Snape. I find it useful to understand magic in all its variations, even when I don't practice it." Dumbledore appeared at last, emerging from the inner office to meet his visitor. "Does that surprise you?"

Severus considered his reply carefully, recognizing it for the test it must surely be. "Only that you would display it so openly in such dark times. It seems to me that many of your 'allies' would be eager to seize upon the possession of such texts as evidence of guilt."

The Headmaster sighed, shaking his head. "Alas, I fear you're correct. Dark times indeed, when knowledge itself is suspect."

Dumbledore waved him to a corner, where two armchairs were pulled close together, a small table between them. Severus took his seat warily.

The Headmaster considered him skeptically, a frown creasing the lined face. "Let us get on with it, as the muggles would say. You've proved yourself a coward. For the sake of a woman who'll never be yours, you would sacrifice everything for which she stands." Severus said nothing, and Dumbledore's eyes flashed with fire. "Why would I still consider your application?"

"As you yourself have stated, knowledge itself should not be considered a danger."

"Explain."

"Prophecies are not so easy to prevent as one might think. Awareness leads down paths that otherwise might not have opened, yet in the end, they come to pass."

Dumbledore considered him thoughtfully. His frown was fixed firmly in place, but Severus could see the mind working at an alarming pace behind those bright blue eyes. "True. But your interference will have grave consequences for us all."

"If you believe prophecies at all, you must also believe they'll become known to those who have a role to play in their fulfillment."

"Ah, but you don't have the entire prophecy. You don't understand what's at stake."

"To each according to their role."

Dumbledore paused, considering, and Snape wondered if he knew of his actions in the barn. The anger in his eyes had banked slightly, mixing with his curiosity. His voice was calm when he asked, "You believe you have a role to play, then?"

Severus nodded, thinking of Regulus, who'd made him promise, and Lily, who needed him still. The path was torturous and slow, but he would walk it for their sakes.

"I do."

The Headmaster studied him, and Severus glowered back. At last, Dumbledore's frown relaxed into a expression of grudging respect. "I believe you may, at that." He smiled then, and the lines that had seemed so weathered a moment earlier were merely the byproduct of a habitual smile. "You're a surprising young man, Mr. Snape. We'll see if you can live up to this role you see for yourself."

Severus let out a sigh of relief, which made him instantly feel a fool. He tugged at his collar nervously, but kept his voice steady as he answered, "Thank you, Headmaster."

Dumbledore turned away, all business as he retrieved a parchment scroll and called to an attentive quill. "Standard contract, please. One year, renewable," he instructed it, and it obediently began to scratch out the details. This done, he turned back to Severus. "You'll begin in September, with the new term. But I must warn you, your deeds are not forgiven. You have much to atone for."

A lump formed in his throat, and Severus swallowed hard against it. As much as he'd hoped for this, he found it hard to believe now. Dumbledore signed his own name with a flourish, sliding it across to Snape. A binding magical contract. They would both be bound by it, no matter what the rest of the summer might bring. His palms were sweaty, but his hands did not shake as Severus took the quill and signed.


	25. Chapter 25

Life as a professor was as excruciating as he'd imagined it. There wasn't enough red ink to mark their idiocy, and the monotony of lecturing and grading grated at his nerves. At least potions allowed him the entertainment of trying to predict which cretin would cause the most dramatic mistake of the day, but even that was only mildly amusing.

He was more unpopular now than as a student, which he'd hardly thought possible. Suspicious eyes followed his every move, waiting for him to slip up. Or worse, stared through him as if he didn't exist. The staff didn't trust him, and the students despised him. Even his Slytherins slunk away at his approach, too clever to align themselves to a man of such questionable allegiance.

All that, he'd expected. He had not, however, expected Dumbledore's constant nagging.

"How are your lesson plans coming?" the Headmaster asked. He'd made himself at home in Severus' corner of the library, waving aside stacks of books and parchment to make room.

"When I'm left alone, just fine," Severus said, snatching his scroll back from the stack floating out of reach. He leveled his most intimidating scowl at the old man, wishing he'd go away.

"Excellent." Dumbledore countered with an addled smile, and Severus tried not to groan. "And you're keeping up with the grading? Head of house is time consuming; it's not usually given to a first year teacher. If it's too much, I can assign a teaching assistant."

"Will you please shut up?"

Dumbledore smiled serenely up at him, as if he'd won the argument. Severus realized he was leaning down over the old man, both hands braced on the desk. With an effort, he choked down his irritation and turned away. There was a window tucked into the end of the row here, and his reflection stared back at him, sour and intense.

"Pressure getting to you, Severus?"

He clung tightly to his control and said nothing. Dumbledore's chair scraped across the floor, and Severus felt his presence at his shoulder. He could see Dumbledore's reflection too: clear blue eyes showing a concern Severus couldn't fathom.

"You're tired."

The words were deceptively light, but they both knew what he wanted. Severus recoiled, as the blood pounded through his head. Why couldn't the man leave well enough alone?

Severus snapped open his bag and began to shove papers inside, refusing to look up. He sorted the books quickly, leaving the library's stacked on the table and shoving his own into the depths of the bag. Severus didn't need anything from this meddling old fool. He was fine.

Dumbledore grabbed the last book, and held it out to him. It hung there, in mid air, and all he had to do was reach out and take it.

"I can help, if you'll let me."

Their eyes met, and the question hung there between them, unanswered.

Dumbledore had been in his rooms, waiting, the first night he'd crept back from his master. A voice from the darkness, and terror had surged through him. He whipped around, grabbing for his wand. But cruciatus still jangled through his nerves, and his shuddering hands couldn't hold onto the wand.

"You're hurt."

"No." His voice was flat and lifeless. "I'm fine."

But Dumbledore saw everything. His eyes were the palest blue, so clear, and they reflected back everything. Severus shuddered at the vision he saw reflected in them. He was a wretch, broken inside, and still he crept back for more.

"Leave." He couldn't bear it. Then tremors seized him, crumpling him into a ball.

"Severus, please. I can ease your pain." Dumbledore reached out to touch his sleeve, and Severus jerked away, gasping. "Will you trust me?"

He'd seen it in his eyes that night. Pity.

He saw it still, as the Headmaster held out the thick library volume.

"I don't need your help," Severus snapped, and snatched the book out of his hands.

*/*

The next summons came during a Saturday morning staff meeting, when he was arguing a point of discipline with McGonagall. It was the faintest of touches, like the whisper of breath across the raised lines of his tattoo. The sensation made him sit bolt upright, as a sliver of ice slid down his spine.

"Professor?"

Dumbledore was watching him. The others stared with unapologetic suspicion, but the Headmaster's expression was blankly neutral.

Severus muttered a lame excuse and composed himself. When he picked up the discussion again, his focus didn't waver.

The tickling sensation never left him, crawling up and down the mark on his forearm no matter how tightly he clenched his sleeve against the skin. As a spy, he was allowed more time to return to his master. But the teasing, tormenting touch of light magic was harder to bear, and he could feel the Headmaster watching him squirm. Those owlish eyes never left him, and he could feel the concern behind them as clearly as the calculation.

He burned with shame, and when the meeting adjourned, Severus wasted no time in leaving. He was supposed to go to Diagon today, a biweekly trip to restock ingredients, and it was a simple thing to slip past the wards and go to his master instead. When he submitted to the mark's pull, the maddening sensation prickled over his skin, gaining in strength, and pulled him to the Dark Lord.

Strange cold light stabbed at him, bringing with it an instant sense of unease. He raised his arms in reflex, shielding his eyes, until his brain could catch up, processing the sensation. The light was constant and unchanging: the artificial coldness of a muggle light bulb, instead of the flicker of torchlight.

Severus lowered his hand uncertainly. He was in an unmistakably muggle room, done all in sickly yellow and rusty brown. Incandescent bulbs burned overhead and the faint buzz of electricity ran counterpoint to his master's humming.

"My lord?"

He was in the corner, bent over something Severus couldn't see. That side of the room was chaos. An armchair lay overturned, one leg broken, and hid whatever held his master's attention. Jagged shards stuck up everywhere. A shattered lamp? And the wallpaper was torn and spattered. But the Dark Lord was humming contentedly to himself, and that was the most alarming detail.

"My lord?" he said again, fear curling in the pit of his stomach.

"Ah." The Dark Lord wiped his hands on his robes, straightening. "At last."

"I'm sorry for the delay. I..." A drop of red, on the underside of his master's chin, the color of blood. His mouth went dry, and the planned excuse died in his throat.

"No matter." The Dark Lord smiled, showing bleached bone teeth. "I found answers while I waited."

He came closer, holding his robes up as he stepped gingerly over the broken glass. He was barefoot, and his feet were startlingly white against the hideous muggle carpet. The carpet was lurid orange, with an irregular pattern of darker brownish splotches. Severus forced his gaze away before he could notice whether the pattern matched the stains on the wall, or the splatter on the Dark Lord's face.

"How goes your progress?"

"Well, my lord." Severus focused, blocking out the chaos of the room. A lie would fail. "The Headmaster has compassion. He thinks he can reach me."

"And he would save you?"

"Perhaps."

No response, and Severus stood still. There was a fringed lamp on the side table, the mate of the one that had shattered. The Dark Lord flicked a finger along the edge, curious. He watched as it swung wildly, then did it again, violent, before it could settle back into place. The room's strangeness seemed to give him some perverse satisfaction.

Severus shifted uneasily, and sat on the plain coffee table, the most normal thing in the bizarre room. He was here for a progress report, nothing more. He would not let himself be rattled.

"Has your spy made progress?" Severus stared at his hands, not letting his keen interest show.

"They're beyond reach, for the moment. But fate plays into our hands."

"Fate?"

"Dumbledore suspects a traitor."

"How observant," Severus said drily, and his master grinned.

"Many have access to the Order. He fears its protections may not be enough."

Severus raised an eyebrow, but the Dark Lord didn't explain. Instead, he smiled like the snake that ate the rat, and waited for Severus to ask. Severus grimaced, but complied. "And this is a good thing?"

"Another fidelius, just for them. And our spy will be the secret keeper."

Severus found a speck of dirt beneath one fingernail, and removed it, flicking it away with studied disinterest. "He is certain?"

"He believes so."

He. A man then, and close enough to be trusted with such a task. Severus frowned, covering his excitement. "You don't sound convinced."

"I'm not." The Dark Lord looked back over his shoulder, to where he'd been crouched earlier. Severus couldn't help but follow his gaze. The stain on the wallpaper was an arc, he saw now. Elongated droplets, flying outward. A graceful upward arc, but his eyes were drawn down. The source of the spray was blocked by an overturned chair.

"My readings suggest you may be right." He turned back, and Severus snapped to attention. "Both my spies will have a role to play."

"Your readings?" The question squeaked out of him, before he could trap it inside.

"Augury, Severus."

His mind recoiled, and he didn't want to recall. "He will grow to trust me," Severus said quickly. "I swear it."

The Dark Lord rose, peering at him fondly. "So committed." His master patted him on the head, like a favored child. Or a pet. "I've seen a piece of your future, dear Severus. You will serve me well."

Severus blocked the words out of his mind. Whatever the Dark Lord had seen, it was a lie. He was done being a slave.

"I should go, my Lord. Before I'm discovered."

"Just as well. I've learned all I needed." His master went to the door, and leaned one hand against the threshold for balance. His shoes were there, and he slipped his pale white feet into them. "Return to your task," he said, and vanished.

The room was quiet without his master's dark presence, and Severus could feel the bloody corner behind him. He went to look, and regretted it. Augury, he recalled, visions in the entrails of animals.

He turned away, sickened. Or muggles, the Dark Lord had decided. Revulsion shuddered through him, and he narrowed his thoughts to the object in front of him.

The remaining lamp, avocado green and mustard yellow. The only intact thing in a room touched by the Dark Lord's madness. Severus moved to straighten the lampshade, and his shoes crunched on broken glass. The lamp was hideously ugly, but it had been part of a matched set once. He reached out, touched the shade, and pushed the lamp off the table.

Let it fall, broken, with its mate.

*/*

Outside Knockturn Alley, a shop had been newly torched. Smoke still curled from the ruins, burning the back of his throat.

A Death Eater attack?

Severus had come to clear his head. He couldn't go back to Hogwarts with his master's deeds so fresh in his mind. Simple errands would force the world back into order, he'd thought, and he'd fallen back on his scheduled task with a sense of relief. But he was wrong. The world had come unstuck, and the natural order could not be restored.

Severus stared at the building blankly. He looked instinctively for evidence of his friends, needing something familiar to hang onto. But the charred timbers told him nothing. Aurors were as likely, cracking down on sympathizers. He'd seen the flames burning in the Prophet as they led away the accused.

Inside Knockturn itself, the shops were closed. Severus knew better. He could hear the rustle of movement behind the blacked out windows. Voices pled in hushed tones behind the boarded up windows. Business was brisk here. Upstanding citizens turning to those they'd once feared, in desperation.

At the potions shop, Severus ignored the closed sign and rapped sharply at the door. A watery grey eye showed through a gap between boards, watching him, and he stared blithely back. Then the deadbolt scraped back and the door opened.

With the door relocked, the old witch retreated behind the counter, watching him with slow, sullen eyes. He smiled and held out a piece of paper, letting it hang between them over the knife-scarred countertop.

"The last batch spoiled, inferior grade I'm sure. So you'll halve the price this time to make it right."

The stained fingers convulsed in her apron, but she had no choice. He had the power now.

"Of course, Sir." She snatched the list from him, and grinned, leering at him. "You'll get what you deserve."

Severus ignored the thinly veiled threat. Whatever fate he deserved, it wouldn't be delivered by a vindictive shopkeep.

A display caught his attention, and he bent to touch it. Brass apothecary scales, with a variety of weights. The worn metal discs were small in his palm. Brass, iron and copper, pulling at his hand. He piled them into the left tray, and the scales shifted, thunking onto the base. Severus touched the right tray, trying to balance them, but it was impossible.

"Sir?"

"Hmmm?"

Silence, with tension prickling the edges of it. Severus turned back, senses alert.

"Delivery's come for you." Deliberate casualness, as the old woman's gaze edged sideways.

"Excellent," he said, equally casual. A message. His regular stops in Knockturn served a dual purpose, as information sometimes filtered to him through his master's network of allies.

The witch pushed open the door for him, letting Severus into the dusty corridor. "Storage room, end of the hall," she muttered, clearing her throat. "Order will be done when you are." She went back to her list, leaving Severus alone in the cramped space.

Not a message then. A messenger.

Severus called for light. The spell trembled into existence, and the darkness retreated a bit, settling into the recesses of the small space. The hall was lined with cauldrons. They were stacked on both sides, towers of dim pewter and heavy cast iron piled to the ceiling. They huddled closer, their squat bulbous shapes strange in the wavering wandlight. He passed through them, uneasy, and tried to ignore the dull gleam of light off their humped bodies. His mind couldn't process the distorted image he saw in them out of the corner of his eye. He pressed by them, into the room at the end of the hall.

"No light."

He let the spell die. For a second, as the light faded, Severus saw him clearly.

"Rabastan."

Darkness closed over them both, but Severus had seen enough. He was thinner, the lines of his face etched deeper now.

"Wait," Rabastan said. "Your eyes will adjust."

Severus could feel him, there in the dark, but the distance between them was too wide to cross. An iron fist squeezed his heart, but he could do nothing. He'd caused this.

"I miss her too," he said, and meant it. She was there between them, a scent on the air. Her eyes haunted him, pale blue and trusting. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Don't." Rabastan growled out the word, his voice rasping over sandpaper. "Don't speak of her."

Severus waited, silent. Narrow windows slitted along under the eaves, and after a moment, he could make out shapes. The storeroom was littered with huge casks like humped beasts. Rabastan stood among them. He'd turned away, but he was leaning on one of the barrels, breathing heavily.

"Why are you here?" Severus asked, gently.

"Can't I come to see an old friend?"

Severus stiffened. "You shouldn't have come."

"Why not? They know what you are." Rabastan snorted, amused. "A Death Eater and a war criminal, like the rest of us. I won't exactly tarnish your image."

"Nevertheless." He shrugged, helpless. "I'm supposed to have changed sides."

"And did you?"

The accusation stunned Severus into silence. His jaw fell open, as he scrounged for a defense and found nothing. For of course, he had. He'd chosen Lily and the prophecy, over his friends. Chosen to put his promise to Regulus first.

Guilt settled deep into his heart, easing the ache of emptiness a little. He'd killed Senara, and now he would die for it. Severus let his hand fall slack at his side, empty. If it would ease the pain.

"What do you want?" Severus croaked, when Rabastan didn't at once draw his wand.

"Vengeance."

"Then take it."

But still, he did not. Instead, Rabastan began to speak.

"When Regulus vanished, I would have hunted them down. For his sake; for yours. I would have ridden them to the ground. But I couldn't. He was gone, and there was no one to blame. But Senara-" His voice broke on her name, and he felt blindly for the wall, reaching for something solid. "This time, I know who to blame."

Severus stood straight, waiting. He would not resist.

"I need your help."

"What?"

"You're close," Rabastan said. His eyes were wide, and Severus could not look away from them. "You have to tell me where they are."

Severus couldn't follow. The whole conversation felt unreal, as if the room had shifted while he wasn't looking. He knew what he'd done and would gladly pay for it, but everything had shifted onto another track.

"Who?"

"The Aurors. Tell me where they are, and I'll kill them."

"What? I don't have any idea-"

"Tell me!"

"Think, Rabastan," he said, pleading. "You don't even know which-"

"I don't care. I'll kill them all."

"Please. There's been enough killing."

"No," Rabastan growled, "not nearly enough."

He'd done this. Whether Rabastan succeeded, killed the wrong man, or was killed in the attempt, it didn't matter. His fault.

Severus turned to leave, but Rabastan's voice stopped him. "You're a traitor," he said, matter of fact. "To her. To Evan."

Sweat prickled along his scalp, but Severus denied nothing.

"You watched them die. And you do nothing to avenge them."

"I can't help you." He went to the door without looking back. "Do what you must." And Severus went out, leaving behind the last of his friends, forever.

Severus went out through the shop and into the street, in a daze. His feet beat against the cobblestones, as listless as his heartbeat. A hooded figure loomed up in front of him and he pulled up, ready. He gaped, but justice did not come. His reflection opened its mouth, gasping, and suffocated in the warped surface of the burned shop window.

He saw it now, as the window gave him back his reflection. A grim man twisted and warped by the darkness that surrounded him. The image was distorted, as the heat of the fire had warped the glass, but it showed truth. Severus was a monster.

He'd betrayed his friends, but his sins ran deeper than that. He'd given orders, with no thought for the victims. He'd witnessed torture, and felt nothing for them. He'd felt the weight of his master's insanity, and done nothing to stop him. Each failure was a weight against his soul, and nothing he did now could ever balance the scales.


	26. Chapter 26

"Headmaster?"

Severus stood at the entrance to Dumbledore's office, the note clutched in his hand. _A research request_, it read. Distant and impersonal, in the most formal academic diction.

"You had something to discuss?"

"Ah. Professor Snape." Dumbledore waved Severus inside, but kept his attention focused on his calculations. Scraps of paper covered his desk, and a long roll of parchment was spread out in front of him. "A moment, please."

Dumbledore frowned, concentrating, as Severus joined him. He marked through a number in black ink and the rest of the numbers twisted and settled into a new pattern. The headmaster checked the results, then nodded and set down his quill.

"Thank you for coming. I've been working on something, and I've reached an impasse. One I think you might be able to assist with."

"Indeed." Severus leaned forward, curious. Looking at Dumbledore's calculations upside down, he could make no sense of them. The other papers contained everything from lists of dates to photographs, plus a few he recognized as potion charts. But without a context, it was only jumbled data. He drummed his fingers on the chair, and waited for Dumbledore to get to the point.

"St. Mungo's has had an increase of magic-induced mental damage in recent years, and current techniques can remedy only a fraction of the worst cases."

Dumbledore slid a paper across to him as he talked. "Yes," Severus said slowly, staring down at the list of names. His eyes narrowed as he recognized one, a mudblood he'd seen Malfoy question. He snapped his attention back up to Dumbledore before he could process any more.

"Cruciatus, Legilimens, Imperius. Cracking their minds open with dark magic." The headmaster reached over and rapped his knuckles on the list, scowling fiercely. "They're left empty, altered, or dangerously unstable. And we can do nothing for them."

"The standard methods?"

"Do nothing."

A sick feeling curled in the pit of his stomach. Severus wasn't often in charge of interrogation, but he'd cast the spell more than once. Were any of those names there because of him? He'd heard the madness in Black's laughter, seen the blood on his teeth, and that had been only a few minutes. How much longer had he seen his master draw it out?

"None of the potions have any affect?" But Severus knew the answer before Dumbledore could shake his head. Calming draughts did nothing for actual nerve damage, and long term use led only to addiction and dependence. Dreamless sleep would keep the nightmares at bay for a short time, but they returned, even more terrifying, once the body had time to acclimate.

"Not for long term care. If the spell is maintained too long, or cast too often, the damage is beyond repair."

Severus frowned. What was he supposed to do about it? If there was a potions solution, he would've discovered it by now.

"I think, at last, I have a solution," Dumbledore said, triumphant.

"What do you need from me then?"

The headmaster leaned in close. "You. Are an occlumens. You have to be, to have survived so long. And that's exactly what I need."

Severus went cold at the implication, as his spine went rigid and the air froze in his chest.

"No. I won't let you." He wouldn't go through that again, not for anything.

"Knowledge itself is not evil, Severus." The headmaster gave him a sad smile, as if it were a truth only they two could understand. "He's used legilimens to destroy, but I will use it to heal."

Severus couldn't speak. Did he understand what he was asking? To let him into the places the Dark Lord had been, expose the most broken parts of himself.

"I need you, Severus," Dumbledore continued, his voice gentle. "So many of them are beyond reach, comatose or insane. They can't consent, or guide the process. I need someone who can stay in control. Who can steer me through the most damaged memories, and block me at the first sign of trouble."

"It's not that simple."

Severus leaned his elbow on the desk, rubbing one hand across his forehead. To lower his shields, to let someone in now that he had the power to stop them. Dumbledore would have all of him, possessing him as surely as the Dark Lord ever had. Could he endure such a thing?

Dumbledore slid another piece of paper across the desk. A photograph. Severus stared, recognizing the sunny blonde hair and tight, pinched features. A Ministry witch, captured on his hunt for Black. He'd sent her to the dungeons and never thought of her again. But here she was, staring at him with dull, lifeless eyes.

"You've done terrible things, Severus, and this does not begin to atone for them. But you can ease their suffering, and in that, you would serve a purpose."

Her eyes were empty now, staring through the camera without comprehension, but Severus could not escape their gaze. His fault, and he couldn't even remember her name.

"I ask you again. Will you trust me, for their sakes?"

He inhaled, though the task seemed too much to bear, and raised his head to look at Dumbledore. Numbly, he nodded, but the small action was not enough to make up for what he'd done. "Yes," he said. Severus breathed the word out, but there was no sense of relief. Only the weight of responsibility, heavy in his bones. "I will trust you."

*/*

"Recent trauma?"

The voice came out of the darkness, cold and clinical. Severus could hear himself breathing, the harsh pants of an animal, and he forced civility into each answer. The measured cadence of human control, to deny his weakness.

"Duration?"

Each question as dispassionate as the next, and Severus answered them all, thankful for the darkness that shrouded him. No pity in those eyes, no condemnation staring back at him, and so he could go through with this.

"Why combine cruciatus and legilimens? Why could you block one and not the other?"

His interrogator showed emotion only once: when Severus explained that crucio was an excuse to let the Dark Lord in, when he was supposed to be strong enough to keep Dumbledore out. Severus heard his startled intake of air, the huff that said the headmaster hadn't expected this. "You allow him...?"

"If the Dark Lord thinks I have secrets," he snapped, "I'm dead. You wouldn't do cruciatus, so it's something I can let him break me with."

Stunned silence, and Severus grimaced, pulling away from what he guessed must show on the headmaster's face. But then Dumbledore continued, and maybe he'd only imagined it.

"Prior history?" the voice asked, impersonal as ever, and they were back to business. Until Dumbledore asked the question he didn't want to answer, and his throat closed on the answer.

"Severus?" Dumbledore shifted in his seat, moving in for the kill. The rustle of robes gave him sudden definition in the darkness, destroying the careful illusion of distance Severus had worked so hard to maintain. "What happens when he breaks through?"

Severus swallowed roughly, but could not force himself to speak. All the times the Dark Lord had been inside his head blurred together, one incident to the next, but the times he'd failed were forever seared into his brain. The times he'd lost the most. Lost control. Lost Regulus.

"Every insight gives us another tool to fight him, and you know him best of all." The headmaster's voice was gentle, nonthreatening. "What did he see, and how did he react?"

"When I can, I give him my darkest moments. He savors them, lingering. It pleases him to know how to cripple you. The good parts-" He broke off, remembering the wavering light on Regulus' skin by the water's edge. His outstretched hand, offered in friendship, and then the same gesture, blasphemous, from his false master. Pain washed through him, and left hollowness in its wake.

"Those I never surrendered, when I could still fight. Only twice. Once I ripped away, lost consciousness. The other..."

He tried to remember, forcing himself to look. He felt himself shatter, saw jagged shards strewn across an empty room, glistening wet. Severus drew a ragged breath, and tried, but the pain was too much to see past. "I can't, I'm sorry. I don't know how he reacted, I was too..."

Dumbledore touched his arm, and he stopped, shuddering. In his mind, he was stuck in that empty room. Where he'd found love, and lost it, forever. He could feel the tears on his cheeks. He should be ashamed, but somehow, here in the darkness, he couldn't bring himself to pull away from the touch. He was not alone, though it couldn't heal the emptiness inside.

"Let's begin," Dumbledore said, and he felt himself nod.

*/*

He'd expected ice.

Dumbledore wouldn't force his way, as Severus was used to. No crushing pressure would crack his; he'd known that. But he hadn't expected warmth.

They said the spell together, and warmth flooded in. The headmaster's mind radiated gentle, soothing heat, where the Dark Lord's touch was snow and ice. Surprise brought his shields up, and the warmth faded in an instant.

"We'll go slow," Dumbledore promised. "Deep breaths, and as you're ready."

The voice was smooth and golden, like honey, and Severus realized he could feel the connection between them. It lapped against the edge of his awareness, a thin trickle of warmth pooling just out of reach. He inhaled, steadying himself, and opened his mind on the exhale.

It came slowly, dribbling through the hole he'd made in his defenses. He felt his natural reserve begin to relax, warming, like cool ceramic filled by his mother's tea. Severus smiled, and let the image float to the surface of his mind. His mother bent over the kettle and the scent of tea enfolded him. Tendrils of steam hung in the air, delicate as lace.

"Dumbledore?" he asked, feeling foolish.

"You're drawing me in deeper." Severus could feel the words, and the wonder behind them, though he saw nothing. "Strengthening the connection on your own."

The small kitchen was real around him, safe and secret. The room seemed too small to contain the quiet knowledge of his mother's love and the serenity of this stolen moment. Yet he was not alone.

He could sense Dumbledore all around him, in the hanging steam, so different from the Dark Lord's intrusions. He'd thought the creeping cold was a result of the spell itself, not the peculiar flavor of his master's mind. But this radiant heat said otherwise.

"I'm doing this?"

"Yes," came the answer.

Severus considered the situation, and then raised the cup to his lips. He closed his eyes, feeling the cup warm his fingers, and took a careful sip. Concentrating, he drew in warmth with each swallow, and the connection grew stronger as heat soaked through him.

"Remarkable." The word was defined now, as if it came from right next to him. Severus looked, and saw the faint outline of Dumbledore in an armchair, with his eyes closed. In the real world, but lit by the lights of his memory. The scent of tea began to fade, and Severus looked back at his mother quickly.

The kitchen snapped back into focus, as Severus concentrated on the scene inside his head. "Now what?" he asked, when he was ready.

"Take me to something he's tainted. Something small."

"Small?" The lights of the kitchen faded, leaving blackness.

"A memory he's touched, but was neutral before that. Nothing more until you trust the process."

Severus thought a moment, and moonlight began to stream across the rough floorboards of his bedroom at Spinner's End. He held a massive book, so thick that he hadn't been able to hold it comfortably in his lap. Instead, he crouched over it, running a finger greedily down the page as he read. His lips moved as he whispered each spell, trying to memorize the words. She'd given him the power to fight back, at last, and he wouldn't waste it.

"Focus on the memory, but know that I am here."

Dumbledore's voice made him jump. The scene was so real, he'd forgotten the headmaster's presence. He turned a page, and kept reading, but it felt different now. When the Dark Lord had seen this moment, it had been only a flash as he forced his way deeper. With Severus leading, the pace was slower and more natural, like it was unfolding in real time. But now he was older, calm and in control. His adult mind didn't feel the desperation that had driven him then. The scene was distant, cool to the touch, but veins of ice shot through it. Lurking in the spidery text, waiting in the darkness just beyond the moonlight. It didn't belong, and as he became aware of the cold spots, he felt Dumbledore reach out to touch them.

"Is that...?"

"The traces he's left, yes."

The thought made him sick, and Severus lost his place in the book. Remnants of the Dark Lord, woven through all the places he'd touched.

"Keep reading," the voice urged. "Let me work." Severus turned to the next spell and started again.

In time, they moved to another memory, and the next. Severus kept each image in tight focus, holding onto them tightly so Dumbledore could do his work. He felt strange, watching each memory unfold. He was the pivot point, but the necessity of the work let him stay detached. His sense of distance slipped only once, in the worst of them, and he cringed away from the belt as it came down. His hands came up to shield his face, and he felt his mental shields begin to snap closed. Then Severus felt Dumbledore's hand on his shoulder, a simple human touch from beyond the nightmare. The contact steadied him, anchoring him amidst the hellish swirl of memories, and he endured. He hung onto the thread of warmth that was Dumbledore's mind, until the taint of the Dark Lord burned away. Dumbledore said nothing, offered no judgement or sympathy, and focused only on the task before him.

When Severus could face no more of his demons, he tentatively allowed a memory of Regulus through. He was beneath the ash tree, working on his transfiguration homework, as pale flowers drifted down to cover the page.

"This memory is different."

Severus touched the white blossom, delicate beneath his fingertips. "I know," he said, and his voice was as dangerously fragile as the blossom. "I hid this, but the Dark Lord was too strong."

"He's not here."

"But he saw this. I tried to keep him out, and I couldn't stop him." A spring breeze stirred the branches, catching the pages of his book, and he grabbed for his place. A petal crushed beneath his fingers and broke under the pressure of his hands. Severus hung on, gripping the book tightly with both hands as the wind blew away everything but the one broken petal trapped against the page. "He took this from me."

"No, Severus." The sound of wind couldn't drown out Dumbledore's voice, strong and certain. "He saw it, but he didn't leave anything behind."

"I don't understand."

Severus stared down at the book in his hands. The words blurred together, meaningless, and all that mattered was the one last petal, trapped beneath his palm. The wind died down, and he let the book fall to the side, cupping the flower in his palm. He heard movement from above, as he closed his eyes and inhaled. Broken, it was more fragrant, and its scent filled him with longing. He could sense Dumbledore's presence beside him, like the sun warming his skin, even with his eyes closed.

"He thrives on your pain, your darkness. This is your light." The headmaster's voice grew softer with each word, as he began to pull away. "The Dark Lord found nothing to sustain him here."

The air grew cool, as if the sun had passed behind a cloud, and Severus opened his eyes. "Wait," he called out, not ready to leave. He searched the tree branches, but the scene was already fading as the reality of his room at Hogwarts began to seep back in. The last touch of Dumbledore's mind faded, and he could feel warmth only through the hand on his shoulder.

"He can't touch those memories. They are yours, and yours alone."

Dumbledore let go, and Severus could feel the wind tugging at him, trying to turn the page. He closed his eyes, and ignored everything but the scent of flower petals as he clung to what remained.

*/*

Severus lay on his back, eyes closed. He could feel the earth against the curve of his spine. Crumbling dirt against the plains of his back. The loamy scent of earth filled his nostrils, and he was a part of it.

Life grew all around him.

The gentle sound of laughter caressed his ears, and blades of grass poked through the soil at his elbows. He could feel them against his bare arms, tender and new. He opened his eyes, smiling, and looked to the source. The ash was white with blossoms, and clear blue beyond. To the left, the forest was dark and impenetrable, but through the branches of this sacred ash he could see sky. His pulse came faster and the tree shivered in response, thrumming to the rhythm of his heart. Severus laughed, delighted, and the branches parted shyly, to reveal Regulus.

Happiness welled through him, a secret spring pushing its way free of the earth. It bubbled up inside him, overflowing, and he had to move. He was a thing of earth, but he wanted to climb into the clouds.

He reached for the lowest branch and began to climb.

The pale grey bark was smooth beneath his hands, and he found each handhold easily. All around him, the tree blossomed. Pale white pushed apart the last black buds, splitting them, to burst into bloom. Leaves came too, as he climbed higher, light green, and the flowers fell away. He climbed through the heat of summer, and the drone of insects could not drown out the sound of laughter filtering through the leaves.

Then, summer passed, and the leaves too began to fall away. Hurry, he thought, before winter comes. The bark had grown thick between his fingers, rough fissures showing the tree's age, and the dull green leaves were almost gone. One desperate lunge, and he touched Regulus' fingers before the last of them could let go.

The ash faded away, the sky, the forest. They were inside, in the blurred light of a room without sun, but he hadn't lost everything. He smiled, reached for Regulus, and woke up.


	27. Chapter 27

The slick edge of a button slipped from his grasp. He touched the buttonhole, neat stitching around empty space, and his hand shook. Severus flexed his hands wide, feeling the empty air between his outstretched fingers. The skin tingled, and he could imagine the warmth of flesh against his fingertips. The phantom sensation of a missing limb, he thought, and closed his hands into a fist.

Severus always dressed in the dark. The ritual steadied him, each crisp movement carried out in a precise order. The economy of motion let him pull his defenses on as deliberately as his robes, as a thousand tiny buttons were tucked precisely into place. But in the wake of the dream, ritual failed him.

He needed to see the ash tree. Feel it beneath his hands. He'd avoided it, knowing the memory would cut deep, but it was time.

With measured steps, he passed the Slytherin dorms he'd once called home. Regulus was never far from him here, and he'd developed the habit of skulking about with his head down. Hiding from the fragments of memory that haunted him.

But if Dumbledore was right, if they were his light... He didn't want to shut out his memories anymore, even if they left him aching. He needed their strength, no matter the pain.

Past snoring suits of armor, meandering staircases, and paintings still with sleep, he walked. He let his mind wander as he trailed his fingers along the walls of the castle. Remembering. He ceased to take notice of his path, lost in the fog of his thoughts.

A door closed, jarring him back to the present. Severus saw movement. His breath caught: the jut of an aristocratic nose and strong chin in profile. Black haired, tall and lanky, and too powerful to be a mere child.

"Regulus."

His heart stuttered over the empty place inside, and leapt before he could tell himself it was impossible. Regulus, as he should be, real and warm and alive. But the shock of recognition had frozen him, and Regulus was disappearing around a bend. By the time Severus caught sight of him, Regulus was on the staircase, already a flight down. The stairs were shifting to a new position, and Severus was forced to wait, watching Regulus slip away from him.

It couldn't be real, had to be a sign that he was coming unhinged. Severus leaned over the railing, staring, and willed him to turn back. Finally, the staircase shifted. He threw himself over the gap before it had stopped moving.

Regulus was gone now, into the entrance hall and out of sight. But Severus knew where he was going. The ash tree, where this had begun.

Severus's steps didn't slow when he left the castle, though he'd lost sight of Regulus. He closed his fist over the secret keeper, and it throbbed with the pang of his longing. Pain at his temples, blurring his vision, but he couldn't stop now.

The ash tree lay just ahead.

His path was shrouded in darkness, but dawn had begun. The sky began to lighten, almost imperceptible, and the blackness gave way to shades of silver. The lines of the forest etched themselves onto the horizon. Until he could make out Regulus among into the trees. Color seeped in, muted, but growing stronger. Time was running out.

"Regulus."

He was running now, sparkling dewdrops all around him like the broken glass of the water pitcher. The dream was fading, and the blood pounded in his ears. He couldn't let Regulus go on without him, wouldn't let him go on alone. Severus plunged into the trees, desperate, and grabbed hold of his cloak.

"Don't go."

Regulus turned back, and time jittered to a stop. Severus couldn't move, as he stared into Regulus' face.

Regulus stared back, the lines of his face slack with surprise. Then the features twisted into an expression of loathing. A hatred so intense that Severus took an involuntary step back, suddenly afraid.

"Snivellus."

His heart shattered, and Severus understood. He squeezed his eyes shut against the pain, as the peace that had stayed with him since waking evaporated. Burned away as mercilessly as the morning dew.

"How dare you speak his name."

He drew a shuddering breath and opened his eyes, forcing himself to see the truth. Sirius Black stood in front of him, undeniably real and full of rage. But Severus could see Regulus hidden beneath the lines of his face. The strong nose and the way the thick eyebrows scrunched together to show his anger. His eyes were too simple: the grey of storm clouds without the mercy of summer rains behind them. He was a shadow of his brother. Straight lines and pure colors, where Regulus was muted and layered.

"I... I'm sorry." He felt dizzy, as if the ground had shifted beneath him. But Black was staring at him with those almost right eyes, and Severus had to do something.

He stuck his hands in his pockets, leaving his wand blatantly out of reach, and looked away. Not a threat, he thought, hoping Black's animal impulses would process the gesture. But also to look away from the accusation in his eyes.

Black hesitated, his wand wavering, and then lowered his hand. They stared at each other, unsure of what came next. Severus' hand closed around the secret carrier, holding onto its familiar warmth. Memory was close to the surface, and the silver ball throbbed with tension. He could feel it pulsing, wanting to open, and he knew what to do.

Severus smiled, and looked beyond Sirius Black. He saw past the hatred and revulsion that had bound them for so long, searching for a different connection. The angry sneer blurred out of focus and he saw Regulus instead. Severus could see him so clearly. Young and whole, beneath the edge of the forest. Severus closed his eyes, holding onto the longing, and felt the secret carrier fall into two equal halves inside his hidden palm.

The note, with its careful script and final goodbye. And the photograph. Two brothers, so alike on the outside, so different inside.

Severus opened his eyes, holding the stiff photograph between thumb and forefinger. He felt the glossy texture of it, slick beneath his fingertip, and remembered Regulus' face, radiant with joy. Regulus was laughing now, in the branches above them.

Quickly, before he could question the impulse, Severus pulled the photograph out of his pocket. Shaking, he held it out to Sirius. The brother Regulus had loved so unconditionally. Severus had never felt love like that. He hadn't understood. Still didn't, but he knew what Regulus would want.

"Take it," he said. His voice was rough with emotion, as raw as his heart felt, but he could feel Regulus' laughter pushing him on.

Sirius narrowed his eyes, grip tight on his wand. Flat grey eyes flicked toward his outstretched hand, then back to his face. He shifted his weight forward, but suspicion made him cautious.

"What is that?" Sirius demanded. He licked his lips nervously and chanced another glance downward. This time he must have seen more of the image, because he went pale. "Is that...?"

"You should have it."

Sirius was staring at the photograph. At the image of himself, so long ago, and the brother who would never laugh again. His lips were thin and drawn, and when he opened his mouth to speak, Severus could see the angry red line where he'd bitten down. "Reggie." Sirius breathed out the name, a harsh exhalation that shuddered through his whole frame. Then he reached out with his wand hand and snatched the photograph from Severus.

Sirius stared down at the photograph, his eyes eyes dead and lifeless.

"He treasured it, took it everywhere. It- you meant a lot to him. He never left it behind." Pain lanced through him, and Severus cut himself off. Not until he'd left them both behind.

Severus watched him for a reaction. He could see the jump of a vein beneath his left eye, the corded muscles of the throat, but he didn't know how to read Sirius.

"Please. He'd want you to have it."

Sirius shuddered and the muscles of his arm convulsed. His hand tightened around his wand, and Severus cringed as the photograph bent and crumpled in his grip.

"How did you get this?"

His voice was calm and quiet. If not for the tension in his body, it could have been an innocent question.

Severus considered his options carefully. "I found it in his things." He kept his chin level, glaring back at Sirius. Of all Regulus' choices, Severus was the one Sirius hated most. He wouldn't react well to being reminded now. "I thought you should have it."

"Liar."

"No, I-"

"You took it." Sirius was shaking, as crazed as he'd ever looked. "After... After they killed him."

"What?" Severus drew back, startled. He wanted his wand, badly, but Sirius would strike if he reached for it. The words were tumbling out now, mindlessly, as he took another step back. "He left it behind, someplace safe, so I could-"

"He'd never leave it. You said it yourself."

"He wouldn't, normally. But he knew he-"

"No!"

Sirius screamed the word, shocking him into silence.

"He had second thoughts. Something snapped him out of it." Sirius closed his eyes as a strangled breath shuddered through him. When he opened them, the grey of his eyes was as dull as iron, and as unyielding. "And you killed him for it."

"No, I- I couldn't stop him." If only he'd gone with him. If only he'd been strong enough. "He thought he was doing the right thing, saving the world, and I-"

The sobs were welling up inside of him, threatening to rip through his controls. He could feel a tremor starting in his hands, as the walls that held him together began to crumble. His nails bit half moons into the flesh of his palm as he fought for control.

"So you let him die," Sirius said.

Severus gasped, and bit down on his tongue. Pain flashed through him, quicksilver fast, but it was nothing compared to the dagger sharp sting of the truth.

"He was your friend, and you let him die."

The words cut into him, and he opened himself to the blade. Sirius' expression was bleak as death, but it was Regulus' face he saw. "I'm sorry," Severus said at last.

"Sorry's not good enough," Sirius said, and held up the photograph for him to see. "Sorry won't bring him back." Slowly, deliberately, he ripped the picture into pieces.

Severus reached for them, too late, and Black opened his hands, tossing the pieces back in his face. "You can't fix it like this. You killed him, all of you, and nothing you do will make it right."

The pieces fluttered around him, as Black disappeared into the forest. Fragments of the boy he'd loved, drifting and slipping away on cruel currents of air, coming to rest on the dew damp grass. He fell to his knees, gathering up what he could find. The corner of his mouth, open and laughing. The curve of his hand reaching out, train station blurry and lost to distance.

They were lifeless now, magic dissolved with the rending of paper, but Severus crawled on his hands and knees, searching. Daylight streamed over him now, morning rays rending the forest's canopy at last.

By the sun's harsh light, he found one dull grey eye. Severus stared back at it, uncomprehending. How could he do it? Destroy the last remnant of Regulus. Betrayal cut deep into him, and familiar hatred possessed him. Black had never deserved his brother's love. He'd betrayed them all. Severus stood slowly, eyes never leaving the image of his old enemy on the grass. He drew his wand and incinerated it, watching the tiny fragment of Black's face blacken and curl up at the edges.

*/*

There was a noise behind him in the forest, and Severus whirled to face the sound. He cursed in a low voice, praying Lily wouldn't get him killed. He'd begged her to meet him, letting her set the terms, but the Forbidden Forest was dangerous without a wand, even at its edges.

Severus peered anxiously into the darkness under the forest's canopy, but made no move to flee. He saw movement, but couldn't make out the source. Whatever it was, he wouldn't run. Lily had agreed to meet with him. He would not give up this chance to save her for fear of the dark creatures that lurked in the night.

Movement, and something in the dense undergrowth. A silver stag, larger than he'd seen before. Its fur was faintly luminous in the thick shadows, and its eyes were bright and intelligent. Severus let out a sigh of relief as the beast stepped from the darkness toward him. "Only a stag," he muttered to himself, and went back to watching the shadows for any sign of Lily's presence.

The stag, however, seemed to have other ideas. It bent its huge head down to regard him with what seemed like intent. Severus backed up out of range of its massive antlers, staring up at it in confusion. For a moment they stared at each other, man and beast, and he felt oddly like the creature was waiting for something. Severus cleared his throat, watching the sharp hooves only a few feet away, ready to dance out of their way if need be. Keeping his tone low and calm, he said at last, "I don't know what you want, but I'm harmless. A few minutes, and I'll leave you in peace."

Severus felt stupid, talking to a dumb beast as if it could understand him, but it seemed the only thing left to him. The wandless magic he could do was destructive in nature, and it seemed pointless to set fire to a beast that had done nothing to threaten his plans. Without his wand, he couldn't drive it off in an easier way, and it unnerved him to let it remain. So he talked to it. And, to his surprise, the animal responded to the sound of his voice and moved off at last. The silver stag disappeared back into the forest, as mysteriously as it had arrived, and he continued his vigil.

After a few minutes, Lily Evans came at last, appearing from the same patch of forest. A black cloak made her fade into the darkness and the brightness of her hair lay hidden under its hood. But even in the gloom, he would always recognize the tilt of her mouth and the flash of her eyes. Some of the tension left him at her gentle smile.

"You came," he said, relief making his heart light. "I wasn't sure if you would."

"I almost didn't," she replied. "There's so much at stake - it seemed too much of a risk. Even for you."

She came close to him and let the hood of her cloak fall back. He held out his hands, palms up, to show that he held no wand, and she took them in her own. Her skin was soft, and he couldn't bear her gentleness. He held her at arm's length and did not smile. Her green eyes met his darker ones, and at last, she released him, looking away.

"I do trust you, Severus. Even now." Her voice shook, and he heard the sadness in it. He looked down, ashamed. "What is it you have to tell me?"

"I've figured out the identity of the traitor," he answered, keeping his gaze fixed on the forest floor. "I've come to warn you."

One delicate hand clenched involuntarily on the fabric of her cloak. Her voice, though, was calm and deliberate when she spoke, betraying none of her anxiety. "And...?"

"Sirius Black." He closed his eyes against the reaction, knowing she wouldn't believe him easily.

"What?" Her voice was far too loud, shocking the insects into silence. With a conscious effort, she controlled herself. "How do you know?"

"I have access to information you do not." The spy was one of Potter's closest friends, he was sure of it. He knew what Black was capable of. He would never forget the look in Black's eyes when he'd ripped the photograph in half.

"Then your master's told you?"

"No," Severus admitted. "He won't tell anyone, even me, for fear of exposing them." She sighed, a sound of pure frustration, and he hurried to explain himself, before she could dismiss it all. "I've spent the last year gathering information, tricking clues out of the Dark Lord and analyzing what information we're passed, and how quickly it's relayed."

"And you're certain?"

He nodded, and said nothing.

She knew him. Knew his meticulous habits. The way he verified everything a dozen times before considering it complete. She had to believe him.

At last, she nodded.

"I believe you," she said. And he blinked his eyes against a sudden rush of dizziness, as relief flooded through him. She took his hand again, anchoring him. "But you have to explain it. Right or wrong, James and I decide together, and he'll need convincing."

Together, they walked along the edge of the Forbidden Forest as he explained himself. They walked in the twilight shadows of the trees, where so much of his life had taken place. Until he'd finished his story, and the rest of the task was hers. She was less cautious than he, and moonlight fell upon her as she stepped from beneath the canopy into its soft caress. She turned to face him, but he stopped in the protective shadows of the forest. His black eyes were lost in shadows, but hers reflected the stars.

"Sirius has been a brother to him. I don't know if I can convince him." Defeat hounded her, but she refused to give in. She was stronger than that. "But I'll try."

Severus turned away, wishing there was something more he could say. A long path lay before him, along the edge of the forest to where he'd hidden his wand, and then on until it crept close to the castle. Yet he had gone only a few steps when he stopped and called back to her.

"Yes?"

He could say only one thing which might convince James. "Ask him what happened fifth year, on Halloween. Ask him if Sirius hasn't already proven himself a traitor. He'll betray his friends, if the motivation is strong enough. Ask him."

"I will," she promised.

Eyes on the forest, he walked away, leaving her alone in the moonlight.


	28. Chapter 28

Severus was in the Great Hall when the summons came.

Dinnertime, with the students spread before them in neat rows, and he was talking with Flitwick as he ate, some inanity about the grinning jack o'lanterns floating overhead. Then the tug of magic yanked at him, so strong that the sentence died on his lips and his head swam. The mark burst into life, sending tendrils of fire burning along through his veins. The sensation overwhelmed his nerves, and his arm went numb, the fork clattering onto his plate with a metallic ping.

"Severus? Are you alright?" Flitwick peered at him, the tiny man leaning on the table with both hands to better see up into his face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I-"

But another yank came, as if something had physically hooked through his spine, trying to rip him from one place to the next. His vision went grey and he dimly heard cries of alarm, chairs scraping backwards all along the staff table.

"I'm fine, I... I have to go."

He shook off their clinging hands, ignoring the pinched, concerned faces of Flitwick and the nurse, and the thin-lipped, narrow-eyed stare of the transfiguration professor. When he looked for the headmaster, Dumbledore's seat was already empty, and Severus pushed past them all, stumbling to the staff entrance and into the deserted corridor. The others would follow, he knew that, but he didn't have time for them. The Dark Lord wouldn't compromise his position unless Black had given him what he needed. He had the Potters.

Severus sagged against the wall, sucking in deep breaths and gathering himself. In case there was still something he could do, he had to be ready. He could hear the patter of feet, someone coming after him, and he gave into the pull. As the door began to open, dark magic forced him through the iron mesh of the castle's wards.

*/*

Energy ripped through him, and Severus was yanked in a million directions at once, tearing. Then without warning, the tug of magic lost its grip and he was left adrift. Like a drowned man bobbing to the surface, Severus floated up after the waning magic, drifting towards the other side. With a crack, he broke through and solid ground materialized beneath his feet. Light danced behind his eyelids as he gasped for air, lungs burning. Severus stumbled, clutching at anything he could to keep from falling.

Fuck.

It wasn't supposed to be like that. Dazed, Severus could only cling to the surface beneath his fingertips, hanging on. Wood, he realized, as he lost his grip and slid to the ground, and the rough grain of the fence post left jagged splinters in his skin. The impact jarred through him, and he sat there, trying to catch his breath.

Something had gone wrong. The mark should have taken him straight to the Dark Lord, but it hadn't worked. He was outside, and the cold night air was still and silent. Severus listened, but could hear no one. Reflexively, he looked to the sky, but it was empty, without the writhe and twist of glowing green that marked a kill.

Severus dragged himself upright. The sky was empty, but it didn't ease the knot in his guts. Fear had consumed him since the first pull of the mark, and the strangeness of his arrival had only intensified it.

The wind caught, stirring dead leaves around his feet. But the wind brought something else, a scent, and Severus froze.

Burning.

His nostrils flared at the reek of smoke. He turned toward the scent, his skin crawling with the desire not to look. But the burn of light filtered through the trees, a dull reddish glow that made his heart thunder in his chest. He found himself running with no memory of having taken the first step. Severus plunged headlong through the forest, dodging the skeletal branches and looming shapes that tore at his cloak.

When he pushed through the last of the trees, he was on a hilltop. The ground dropped away from him, falling gently away towards a village. The settlement was tiny, only a few houses clustered together in the hollow between mounded hills. It was a nest, snuggled safely between rocks, and each house nestled against the next like eggs tucked in its protective embrace. A strangled noise came from his throat, anguish and despair. For one of the houses had cracked open.

The roofline was jagged against the night sky, its broken edges outlined in the faintest tinge of red. Not fire, as he'd thought, but the glow of some strange magic. As Severus watched, the last flicker of magic flared, stuttered, and faded to black. The cottage was swallowed in the press of night, lost to his vision.

Severus scrambled down the hill, eyes fixed on the darkness where the light had been. A last wisp of silver smoke curled up into the sky, marking the place. Three times, he saw figures skulking away from the village, black against the bluish bruise of the moonless sky. Severus didn't spare a glance for them; it didn't matter now.

Until now, the night had been still as the grave. But as Severus crossed the last stretch of fields, a sound came to him, startlingly clear in the night air. Blood pounded in his veins, as he caught the unmistakable squeal of a motorcycle being kickstarted. The bike coughed again as he shoved his way through a rickety wooden gate, the last obstacle between Severus and his enemy. The engine caught at last, coming to life with a monstrous growl, and Black was away.

Severus was between the houses now, but he was too late. Severus heard the bounce of the tires as they left pavement for the last time. He craned his neck upwards, clutching his wand. But the roofs blocked his shot, and he had only the quickest glimpse of a dark shape silhouetted against the stars.

Then Black was gone, and the broken cottage loomed before him. Severus pulled up short, staring at the fractured shell. The house seemed squat, huddled between the taller cottages on either side, and for a second, it seemed all right. Standing in the middle of the street, Severus let out a bark of laughter. The sound was crazed, a desperate manic sound that startled him into silence again. For he could see it clearly now, the broken edges where magic had shattered the cottage. The entire second floor had been blown away, and the door stood open.

With absolute calm, Severus took the last few steps to the front fence, touching the cold metal of the gate with one hand. It was a delicate design, wrought iron painted white, the solid iron curved into gentle arcs. She must have loved it. Graceful, he thought, and strong. His hand spasmed, closing on the metal, and he turned the handle.

Deliberately, he closed the gate behind him, and it snicked shut like the tumbler of a lock falling into place. Severus followed the paving stones across the small yard and into the yawning doorway.

He found James in the first room, vacant eyes staring through cracked lenses. Severus stared back, while James' empty eyes stared through him. The glasses had been knocked askew, but Severus didn't bend to straighten them or check the body. Avada Kedavra left nothing to revive.

The wand was still in his hand, and Severus wondered if James had time for a spell before. But it didn't matter now, and he left the body where it lay. Feeling his way forward in the dark, Severus found the staircase. His hand shook on the railing as he climbed, but he had to know for sure.

Her body lay just beyond.

All the air went out of him, and Severus couldn't move. She was facing him. Starlight reflected in her eyes, and he could feel her watching him. He'd failed, and the accusation of it lingered in her dead eyes. She was angled away from him, one slender arm flung back as if he'd pushed her away.

With a start, he looked up at the shattered roof, and saw all the lines of force spreading out from the place where he stood, all the cracks originating from that one spot. He jerked away from the spot, further into the room, and fell to his knees next to her body.

A night breeze caught at her hair, blowing a curl of bright red across her cheek. The sight was so familiar that he almost smiled. But there was no one to push it back, and a sob stuck in his throat. The curl caught in her eyelashes and he reached out for it. Severus pushed back the riotous curl, tucking it securely behind her ear, as he'd watched her do a million times. He bent his head over her and gently closed her eyes with shaking fingers. His tears fell on her skin, and he forgot himself for a time.

When he heard voices from outside, the sound of movement, he summoned his strength and apparated away.

*/*

Victory was as bitter as wormwood.

The Dark Lord had fallen. And still, he'd lost everything. All the lies he'd told, the evils he'd committed, and it had come to this. Lily was dead, and her family with her.

Severus huddled into himself, the ache of futility a tangible pain in his stomach. He could feel Dumbledore watching him, but it was Lily's eyes he saw. His stomach lurched as he remembered. Pupils wide and reflecting the stars with an unnatural glassy shine, too dry. The green of her eyes lost in the gloom, irises a narrow dull band. He could still see her disappointment. Those eyes would never again crinkle with laughter, tiny lines appearing at the corners as she smiled.

"I thought you were going to keep her safe." The words came out muddy and tangled, like his heart.

"She and James put their faith in the wrong person. Rather like you, Severus." He shuddered, fingers curled into claws in his cloak. Another failure. He'd identified the spy, warned them, and it hadn't been enough. She'd said she believed him, but they'd turned to Black anyway. Dumbledore was right.

"Weren't you hoping that Lord Voldemort would spare her?" Severus looked at Dumbledore then, but said nothing. The headmaster studied Severus like he might have studied an insect, interesting but disgusting. There was no understanding or sympathy in the look, and Severus knew he didn't deserve it anyway. "Her boy survives. Her son lives. He has her eyes, precisely her eyes. You remember the shape and color of Lily Evans's eyes, I am sure?"

"DON'T!" The words cut him to the core. He would never forget her eyes. "Gone... dead..."

"Is this remorse, Severus?"

"I wish..." He should have died in her place. The Dark Lord was gone - the prophecy fulfilled. She hadn't deserved to die. "I wish I were dead..."

"And what use would that be to anyone? If you loved Lily Evans, if you truly loved her, then your way forward is clear."

Loved? No, he'd never loved her. He loved only Regulus.

But all this time - everything he'd done to protect her. Even now, he'd trade anything to take her place. He would've faced death bravely, like Regulus, if it could have saved her. Was that love too?

Regulus had chosen his actions. Sacrificed himself for what he believed. But Severus didn't know what he believed. Lily was an innocent - light and laughter and life - and he'd killed her as surely as if he'd cast the spell.

Severus choked on a sob. It'd been within his power to protect her, and he'd failed her too. He should've killed Black himself, to protect her, as he'd killed Senara. It would've been no different. But instead, he'd trusted her ability to see the truth. And now it was too late, he'd lost them both. He should've died with her, in the ruins of that shattered cabin. Dumbledore was wrong; there was no way forward.

"What - what do you mean?" He looked up to find the headmaster's expression alight with hope, despite the grief that haunted those twinkling blue eyes. His breath hitched and his heart thumped erratically, like a wild thing fighting for its freedom.

"You know how and why she died. Make sure it was not in vain. Help me protect Lily's son."

"He does not need protection." Severus willed strength into his words, but the hair on the back of his neck prickled and rose. "The Dark Lord has gone."

"The Dark Lord will return, and Harry Potter will be in terrible danger when he does."

Dumbledore's voice had all the conviction his lacked, and Severus began to tremble. If the Dark Lord lived, he couldn't rest yet. He'd promised Regulus he would see it all the way to the end.

"Very well." He would protect the son, as he hadn't been able to protect the mother. Her eternal gaze of recrimination resurfaced in his mind, and Severus cringed. He couldn't face that accusation every day in the eyes of her child. "But never... Never tell, Dumbledore! This must be between us. Swear it!" He'd protect the boy, but from a distance. Where he'd never see the mother in her child's eyes. "I cannot bear... especially Potter's son. I want your word."

The headmaster shook his head slowly, in disbelief. "My word, Severus, that I shall never reveal the best of you? If you insist..."


	29. Chapter 29

**Epilogue**

Ignoring the cold wind which plucked at his winter cloak, Severus sat on the picnic bench, patient. He would wait as long as it took. The weather didn't matter, nor did the suspicious stares from nervous muggle mothers. He'd come for one reason only. He wouldn't leave until he'd seen the child with his own eyes.

In his hand, he held the silver secret carrier, its magic humming soft and sleepy against his palm. It had been two years since he'd first read the message inside, since he'd lost Regulus, yet every word still burned in his memory. The words lay etched into the surface of his life, and the shape of them defined his every thought.

_Forgive me._

The knife edge of those words cut him still, and he would not release them. This was his burden to carry, the secret that belonged only to him. Nothing else remained of Regulus, and he couldn't lose that as well. Severus felt Regulus watching him still, and he would not fail him. His role had not yet played out in full.

Petunia Evans emerged from her house at last, a plain woman spewed forth from an ordinary life, and he hid the small silver ball in his cloak once more. Dull and listless, Petunia had nothing of her sister's fire, and his attention drifted from her at once. Likewise, the shapeless lump she cradled in her arms. The pudgy shape held no interest for him.

He cared only for the boy.

The small shape trailed hopefully in her wake, like a puppy starved for attention. The child was small for his age and his mismatched snowsuit was far too large for him. He toddled after her, unsteady in the snow, and she paid no attention as he stumbled and fell. She didn't notice, her focus only on the form of her own child, and the boy struggled alone in the snow. Then the toddler pushed himself up, his clumsy movements awkward and determined.

The hood of his suit fell back to reveal unruly brown hair and vivid green eyes. Severus was caught in those vibrant emerald eyes, so like his mother. But James was there too. The boy had his father's features, and that hair could belong to no other. Both of his parents lived in him, and seeing the evidence so strongly before him, Severus could accept it at last. This was Lily Potter's son, for she had not been his Lily for a long time.

The boy, struggling after his aunt, clung to her skirt before being pushed roughly aside. The child looked up at her, wide eyes innocent and uncomprehending, as she lifted her own son high, away from the smaller child. His green eyes filled with tears, yet he made no sound. She looked down on him with a fierce expression on her plain face, and then something flashed across her face. She bent down, quickly, but made no move to comfort the child. She smoothed his hair down over his forehead. But even as she tried to conceal it, Severus saw what he'd come to see.

The lightning bolt scar, where the Dark Lord had touched him with dark magic.

Petunia's nervous eyes darted from face to face, to see if anyone had seen this mark of abnormality, her secret shame. Severus pulled his collar up before she could spot him, as if to protect himself from the cold. When he dared another look, she was still watching him. Her eyes were wary and afraid. Whether from an instinctive knowledge of magic or from recognition, he didn't know. They'd met on a sad playground like this one, so many years before.

Severus turned away, unconcerned. He'd seen what he needed to see. Dumbledore was right. The child bore the mark of magic, set apart by the curse he'd survived. The Dark Lord would return, and this small child held the secret to his defeat.

Severus set off alone, leaving behind the pathetic muggle playground with its plain people and their ordinary anxieties. Laughter echoed across the playground, and a young muggle girl swung high, kicking towards clouds she would never reach. Her hair streamed out behind her, and her cheeks were red with cold. She would never fly, but there was magic in her laughter still.

The sun emerged from behind the clouds for an instant, and light glinted on a thousand ice crystals. The past eclipsed the present, and he heard her voice once more. It echoed across the years in the laughter of this unknown girl. The air bore the memory of apple blossoms, innocent and pure, and the scent floated around him before it was swept away on the winter wind.

He turned into the teeth of the wind, letting it rush around him and unfurl his cloak behind him. The wind stirred the loose snow into a frenzy of whiteness and he released his resentment into it at last. It whistled away, swept up on the wings of the wind, and the release of it was a cool relief.

His eyes burned with the cold, and he blinked away tears that would never be shed. When the wind died at last, the snow settled into stillness at last. Severus opened his eyes to the ever distant horizon, no closer for all the time he'd spent struggling towards it. His black eyes fixed on the distant horizon. His footsteps crunched into virgin snow with each step, and he did not look back. The way before him was clear, and he would not turn from his destiny. In his cloak, the secret carrier hummed still with magic. Its weight was familiar to him now. He kept its secret willingly, and the winter wind whispered to him in Regulus' voice.

_Forgive me._

And, at last, he did.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note<strong>: The end, at last. Secret Carrier's been a long time in progress for me, and it's a big thing to release it into the world as complete. I sincerely hope you've enjoyed reading it, and thank you all for taking the journey with me. If you've made it this far, please take the time to leave a review and let me know what you thought.

**For reference**: Secret Carrier took years to develop into its current form, so I've several shorter fics compliant to it. They include other viewpoints, events referred to in flashback or legilimens, and in one case, a deleted scene. Many aren't posted to ffnet yet. This author's note will be updated as they're posted as they're posted to ffnet, but if you'd like links to the livejournal posts, feel free to PM me for more information. You can find a ton of HP fics from my profile, but these are the ones that tie into Secret Carrier.

**Stories Compliant to the Secret Carrier 'Verse  
><strong>_(chronologically by where they connect with Secret Carrier)_

Bad Beginnings - livejournal only  
>Severus' POV, his first night alone in the Slytherin dorms, reflecting on his first encounter with Lucius. Referenced during legilimens.<p>

By Starlight - fanfictionDOTnetSLASH s/4236137/1/By-Starlight  
>Regulus' POV. The drabble that made me fall in love with the idea of RegulusSeverus and started the whole story in my brain. Their habit of sneaking into the Forbidden Forest together became backstory for SC, and this offers an early glimpse of Regulus' developing feelings and the reasons behind them.

Passion in Potential - livejournal only  
>Severus' POV, the dynamics between Snape, Lily and James are consistent with SC, though it's set before Snape had started to fall for Regulus.<p>

Penance - livejournal only  
>Severus' POV at Spinner's End, during the summer after his fallout with Lily. References the protection spell Severus created to keep his father out, as shows what Lily meant to him in that situation.<p>

In Memory - fanfictionDOTnetSLASH s/8007073/1/In-Memory  
>Kreacher's POV, an exploration of Regulus' backstory. Severus is the secret houseguest. Most connections will be apparent ifwhen I get around to writing the prequel story I have simmering in my brain, of Regulus' POV in the year or two prior to the start of SC.

Deleted scene - not posted yet, from the early chapters of SC.

Self-Deception - livejournal only  
>Severus' POV. Remembering that he was not always alone, he revisits the places he once walked with Regulus. Sequel to By Starlight, set well after SC.<p> 


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